


The Prince's Mistress

by thegirl



Series: The Prince's Mistress: A Fem!Merlin AU [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Murder, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Execution, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Failed Conception, Female Merlin, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Magic-Users, Magical Revenge, Rule 63, Sexual Content, The Old Religion, fem!merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 96,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl/pseuds/thegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Uther declared war on the Old Religion after the death of his wife in childbirth, he was warned that there would be consequences to his crusade beyond his worst nightmares. But Uther ignored these warnings, and the purge continued. If he'd known the price his people would pay for his vendetta, perhaps he would have been more wary.</p><p>Twenty years have passed since the great purge began, and Uther's subjects have grown barren. Fewer children are born with each passing year, until the very future of the Kingdom was endangered. In a final attempt to save Camelot, Uther decreed that men of the noble class were allowed to take mistresses without fear of condemnation. The social class from which the mistress originated didn't matter, as long as she was able to bear an heir - an heir that would be recognised and legitimised by the court.</p><p>Merlin, having been raised outside Camelot, knew little of these problems. If she had, she'd have thought twice before she saved the prat of a prince's life and was made his mistress as a 'reward' by Uther.</p><p> </p><p>A fill from a kinkmeme prompt, which focuses on an canon AU where Merlin is a girl, Arthur's mistress, and the only hope for a waning Camelot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dragon's Call

“My son,” the woman screamed from the crowd surrounding the executioner’s block, a sound of pure grief and mourning ripping its way from her chest. Her wrinkled hands reached out towards the headless hunk of meat that had only moments before been her child, as if to embrace it, comfort it, bring back her son - her only child.

“There is only one evil in this land,” she cried, up to the king of Camelot, “and it is not magic! It is you, with your hatred, and your ignorance! You killed my son-” here, the old woman’s voice broke but she carried on speaking, even as tears dripped down the crevices in her lined face. “You killed all my sons and daughters I should have had in my womb with your purge, leaving me only one, who you now have snatched from me with the executioner’s blade. I promise you,” she snarled,“before these celebrations are over, you shall share my tears - an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son-”

“Seize her!” Uther’s command cut off the grieving woman, but he gave it too late. A sudden gust of unworldly wind blew up, chilling everyone in the courtyard down to the bone, and taking the old woman away until all the proof that she had been there disappeared, none except her words ringing inside the attendees’ heads.

 _A son for a son._ Merlin looked down at her shoes, eyes brimming with tears. She had heard him, somehow, in her head - _oh please,_ his last thoughts had been, _I meant no harm, I don’t want to die-_

The muddy material was splattered in the executed man’s blood.

Merlin felt her stomach roll, and had to swallow down her bile. This was Camelot, after all: executions of sorcerers were par for the course. It would only draw unnecessary attention.

.

“No, no,” Gaius muttered, circling Merlin warily, running his hands through his white hair, “Hunith never mentioned magic. Not this much. It shouldn’t be natural, unlearned, not in one so young. You should not have come, not looking the way you look, you must go back to Ealdor-”

“I can’t,” Merlin told her great-uncle, “They would have thrown me out if I hadn’t left.”

“But it’s not safe,” Gaius hissed, “Haven’t you heard what has happened to this kingdom?”

“Everyone in Cenred’s kingdom knows magic is outlawed here,” Merlin says slowly, but Gaius shakes his head before she even finishes speaking, “Then what?” she asks, brow furrowed in confusion.

Gaius sighs.

“Sit down, girl,” he says wearily, “It’s a long story.”

.

“Uther has had a campaign against magic for twenty years,” he tells her, “and that was when all the problems began. Arthur, Uther’s son, was conceived by magic although his mother was barren. I am one of the few that knows magic was the reason that Ygraine died, and also why Arthur lives: it was a spell but the Old Religion is all about balance - a mother’s life for a son. But Uther refused to accept it - said he was tricked, that his wife was murdered.

“Ever since that day, he has hunted down magic users. What is known as the purge began. In the beginning, there were so many dead sorcerers they were thrown in unmarked mass graves, and many of them said with their dying breaths that Camelot would suffer for the imbalance of their deaths. But Uther- he was mad from grief, and took it as a threat, which led him to kill more sorcerers, saying his kingdom could only be cleansed by the eradication of all magic.”

“But-” Merlin stuttered, her eyes wide, “You can’t- you can’t _kill magic.”_

“Uther thought he could.” Gaius said gravely, “He was wrong. For every magic user he killed, the magic grew angrier and more volatile until a curse made itself known a few years after the purge began. Birth rates were decreasing rapidly among both the nobility and the peasants, and now we know why. As the Purge began because Ygraine died birthing Arthur, a child that should not have been born to a barren woman and therefore was born of magic, the Old Religion’s solution was that the people of Camelot would lose their children to magic. Ever since, the birth rate has been declining faster and faster. This past year, only two hundred children were brought into the world in Camelot, a kingdom home to millions.”

“That’s impossible,” Merlin breathed, “That can’t be. Magic made them... sterile? Because of one man’s crimes? But magic is-” She looked at her hands and saw all the things she had done with them she wouldn’t have been able to do without her powers. Will would have drowned as a child. Her mother could have died from the pox. She wouldn’t have been able to grow her hair so long every year to cut off and sell to the wig maker so they made it through the tough harvests. Gaius would have probably fallen to his death that very day.

 _Magic is kind,_ she wanted to say, _magic forgives, magic saves, magic heals._

“Magic,” Gaius said seriously, “was a caged animal that lashed out. Uther thought his swords and burnings and executions could destroy it, but he forgot that it fought with nature itself. He still fights it. And he still thinks he can win.”

“I can’t go home,” Merlin told him, “You are the only family I have in the world. There is no one else I can turn to.”

“You can stay,” Gaius finally said, “But you have to be careful. Keep your head down - do not draw the eye of any nobleman, or else he could take you as a mistress.”

“A what?”

“A mistress,” Gaius said, “the king is trying to combat the problem of noble houses dying out by passing a law about ten years ago that should any man of noble birth wish to take on a mistress, he need only petition the king for permission and any children born of that union, married or not, are legitimate heirs, even if the woman is born from peasant stock.”

“So they just pluck any woman off the street they desire? As long as the king approves it is perfectly fine to use women as broodmares?” Merlin said, scandalized.

“Any woman not born of nobility, yes,” Gaius says, “The limit of mistresses per man is six.”

“ _Six?”_ Merlin cried, standing up sharply. Her long, midnight black braid bounced against the small of her back as she paced back and forth.

“It raises the chances of conception,” Gaius explains, “and women not born in Camelot are especially desired, as they are not affected at all by the curse. It is seen as an honour. The women are well treated, kept in luxury as paramours as the men try for a son or any children at all.”

“Why didn’t mother _tell_ me?” Merlin asks, despair on her face. She was rather pretty, Gaius thought, which wouldn’t make it any easier on her.

“She probably didn’t know,” Gaius tells her, “Uther has kept it a closely guarded secret for years. Any correspondence going out of the kingdom is checked, and if it mentions anything about the curse then it is destroyed. Word of mouth can only get so far.”

“How will the curse end?” Merlin asks, sitting down wearily.

“When a Pendragon marries magic, so the story goes,” Gaius says, “In other words: never.”

.

“Hey, come on, that’s enough,” Merlin said as she stopped the rolling target with her foot, allowing the grateful squire to pick it up. “You’ve had your fun, my friend.”

The sun shined bright in her eyes, and off the hair of the young man who had been bullying the poor boy. He looked at her with something akin to disbelief - although that may have been because of her clothes - she still hadn’t been able to find material to make a gown so she stayed in her travelling clothes, her hair curled up in her cap so it didn’t burn her back under the warm midday sun. She must have looked rather odd.

“Do I know you?” the young man asked, an ugly sneer painted on his face as he stalked towards her.

“Um, I’m Merlin-” she began, holding out a hand, but the young knight cut her off.

“So I don’t know you.”

“No.”

“Yet, you called me friend.”

“That was my mistake.”

“Yes, I think so-”

“I could never be friends with such an _ass_.”

The knight let out a snort of disbelief, as Merlin turned to walk away, “Or I one who could be so stupid. Tell me, _Mer_ lin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”

For a moment, Merlin thought he was implying something rude before she realized that he was probably meaning something to do with fighting. She’d only ever fought with Will before, and she’d won most of the time, but they were just farmer’s children, not knights.

“No.”

“Do you want me to teach you?” Merlin imagined wiping the smug look off his face and smiled.

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why? What are _you_ going to do to me?”

Did he not think that women could fight? She had been the raining wrestling champion in her village, not to mention her other... gifts.

“You have no idea-”

“Come on then!” he crowed, spreading his arms wide, “Come on! Come oooon-”

Merlin went to aim a blow at him head, but he was quicker than she’d expected, grabbing her arm even with all the heavy plate and chainmail on and twisting it, eliciting a short, involuntary cry of pain from her as she was forced double.

She expected him to gloat, and was prepared to kick him in the shins, but just as quickly as he gripped her, he released her and pushed her away for good measure.

Merlin only realized why when she righted herself, and her hair tumbled onto her back, her cap on the ground, having fallen off when her head had been forced down.

“You’re-” he stammered, “You’re a woman.”

Merlin growled at him. “Never seen one before?” she snapped as she swept her hat off the floor. The courtyard had gone silent.

“I wouldn’t have-” he begins, “I didn’t mean to offend-”

“Just like you didn’t mean to throw knives at your squire?”she throws back.

“He wouldn’t have got hurt,” the knight says indignantly, “it was only a game-”

“For you, maybe.” she said.

“I do not- I mean, I am not the sort of man-” he seemed to have trouble speaking, still staring at her hair. “Why _are_ you wearing men’s clothes?” he finally asked.

“I’ve just come to Camelot,” she says, shaking her head at his ignorance, “why wouldn’t I dress as a man? On the roads I’m safe as a man, as a woman I’m prey. I haven’t had the time to get any gowns yet. Any more questions, you prat?”

“You can’t talk to me like that,” he says, sharply, seeming to have regained his speech.

“Why not?” she said, raising her chin. “Who do you think you are, the king?”

“No,” the knight says, “I’m his son. _Arthur_.”

.

“I said to keep your head down!” Gaius bemoans, “And what do you do? Have a verbal sparring match with the heir to the throne!”

“It wasn’t really even a match,” Merlin tells him, “I was clearly winning the entire time.”

The Court Physician put his head in his hands.

From where she was hemming her new, second-hand dress, Merlin smiled. “Everything will be fine,” she told her great-uncle, “It’s not like anything other than gossip will come of it.”

.

_Merlin._

She woke with a start, head spinning.

_Merlin._

She couldn’t be imagining it. It seemed to be coming from beneath the very floor. Summoning all of her courage, Merlin took a deep breath and got out of bed.

She was getting to the bottom of this.

.

She had not imagined that ‘this’ was in fact a huge cavern beneath the city where a huge, cryptic dragon was imprisoned.

“How small you are,” the dragon rumbled, “for such a great destiny.”

“What do you mean?” she tried to ask him but he didn’t even seem to hear her, so she raised her voice. “What destiny?”

“Your gift, Merlin, was given to you for a reason.”

Merlin thinned her lips. She had not given him a name.    But her curiosity over her powers meaning something overtook her.

“So there is a reason?” she asked, barely daring to hope.

“Arthur is the Once and Future King, who will reunite the land of Albion.”

“What does that have to do with me? Or my powers?”

“He will face many threats, from friend and foe.”

“I don’t see how this is anything to do with me-”

“It is everything to do with you!” his golden eyes flashed. “Without you, Arthur will never succeed. Without you, there will be no Albion.”

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed, before she finally managed to speak. “No. You’re wrong.”

“There is no right and wrong,” the dragon said, “only what is and what is not.”

“I’m serious!” she exploded, remembering the bully she’d met earlier that day, “If anyone wants to kill him they can go ahead. I’ll even give them a hand!”

“None of us can choose our destiny, Merlin,” the dragon told her, eyes sharp. “And none of us can escape it. He is your destiny, and you are his. You are two sides of the same coin.”

“No,” she babbled, “no way, no. There must be another Arthur because this one, he’s- he’s an idiot!”

The great dragon chuckled, “Perhaps it is your destiny to change that.”

.

Merlin walked into the feast behind the Lady Morgana, as she and Gwen - the lady’s maid - were becoming fast friends.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Gwen sighed over her friend’s appearance. “Some people are just born to be queen.”

“Poor her,” Merlin quipped and the two women laughed.

However, if they had been concentrating on the Prince at the exact moment that he caught sight of the girl he had almost gotten into a brawl with dressed in a gown with her hair down and shining in the candlelight, they would have caught his mouth making the words: _god have mercy,_ his eyes barely even brushing over Morgana although the same could not be said for the other men in the room _._

.

It took Merlin about ten seconds to realize something was wrong as the songstress Lady Helen put the courtiers to sleep with her singing.

Slamming her hands over her ears, Merlin looked around the hall desperately for anyone else still conscious and came up empty. She looked to Gaius, and saw he was asleep. Her anxiety heightened.

Lady Helen was still walking towards the high table - for a moment, Merlin didn’t understand why before she saw a flash of steel. Lady Helen - or whoever was impersonating Lady Helen - levelled the blade above her head.

And she was aiming at Arthur.

Pure instinct burning in her veins as she made the chandelier fall, crushing the singer. The song stopped and so did the pounding in Merlin’s head.

The court began to awake, shrugging off the cobwebs and looking around, their eyes full of fear. All the candles had been snuffed out, and someone who was decidedly _not_ Lady Helen was crushed beneath a chandelier.

The king and Arthur stood, assessing the damage, and Merlin’s eyes wandered over to the old woman’s body - the same old woman whose son had been executed.

 _A son for a son,_ her words came to Merlin suddenly.

Quicker than a half crushed woman should be able to, some inner strength, some burning desire for revenge, had given the old woman the power to pull herself up from the floor, a snarl on her wrinkled face, and the dagger still in her hand.

Until it wasn’t.

Time seemed to slow down - in fact, it did, and Merlin moved as if she was in a dream, even as the knife spiralled straight towards Arthur’s chest with no time for him to move out of the way.

Her hands grabbed onto the Prince’s arm and pulled with all her might, even as time resumed it’s normal pace. The dagger flew into the back of the chair, drilling all the way through the wood, and the idiot whose life she just saved fell on top of her.

Scrambling to her feet, Merlin heard her own heart beating harshly in her ears as she stood on shaky legs, the adrenaline making her feel and hear everything in the room much more sensitively.

Arthur got up beside her, rattled but alive.

 _He is your destiny, and you are his._ The Great Dragon’s words echoed in Merlin’s mind but she shook them away, her eyes focusing on the king’s concerned face.

At the edge of her vision, the old woman crumpled to the ground, dead.

“You saved my boy’s life,” Uther told her, a wildness in his eyes that told her that he knew exactly how close to the grave that his son had come, “A debt that must be repaid.”

Merlin shook her head automatically.

“No, don’t be modest. You shall be rewarded.”

“That’s really not-” She wanted to say _necessary,_ but Uther levelled her with a look that made all her protestations die in her throat.

“This merits something quite special.” for a moment his eyes seemed to rove around, as if he was searching for an idea to pluck out of thin air. “I have just the thing. You shall be given a position in the royal household. My son is yet to take his first mistress, and as a reward you shall be the first.”

Merlin’s blood turned to ice.

“Your Majesty-”

“Father-”

Both she and Arthur protested at the same moment, but the roar of the courtier’s approval silenced them. The king smiled as if he had given her some great gift. In his mind, he had.

Merlin and Arthur looked at one another, dumbstruck. This couldn’t be happening, truly, could it?

But it was.

.

Arthur stared at the girl. Merlin. First his adversary, then his saviour, and now his mistress? His head span.

She couldn’t be more than eighteen.

“Thank you,” he said, when the silence seemed about to choke him, “for saving my life.”

“I might not have,” she says, wrapped her pale arms around her waist, “if I’d known what it’d get me.”

Something pinged at the back of his mind, for why she looked so lost and afraid - although he doubted he looked much better.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Arthur said. Merlin shook her head, biting her plump bottom lip.

“I’m from Ealdor,” she told him, “It’s in Cenred’s kingdom.”

“Why did you come here?” he asked, the conversation becoming more comfortable.

“My uncle - well, great-uncle, but mother told me to call him uncle - Gaius, he’s the only family I have left and I grew... bored of Ealdor.”

The last part was a half-truth, Arthur could see by the way her nostrils flared, but this was not the time nor the place for him to pull her up on it.

“My father,” Arthur says haltingly, “he thinks I need to start trying for an heir soon. Not so much that he thinks I’ll get one soon at all, but the trying is important. In these parts the noblemen that do have children have them on mistresses, after trying a lot for a very long time. It-”

“Makes the chances for conception better,” Merlin nodded, “Gaius told me.”

They lapse into another silence.

“It’s seen as an honour for women here,” Arthur told her, “it’s not meant as a punishment, but my father can be very... stubborn, when he makes his mind up.”

“Nothing _at all_ like you then,” she says, and it takes Arthur a moment to realize she is joking by the challenging look in her deep blue eyes. She was joking about the situation, even though she was clearly terrified. Arthur laughed, and so did she, all the tension bleeding out of them until their sides ached.

They end up on the bed, still giggling as the candles burn down to a stub.

“I’ve been trying to avoid this for ages,” Arthur confides in her, whispering although nobody else would be able to hear him if he spoke normally, “Getting a mistress, I mean. First I did it by throwing myself into becoming a knight, then becoming a better knight, leading patrols and expeditions and saying I’m training recruits even when I’m not, because I needed father to think I couldn’t spare a moment to begin the challenge of creating an heir-”

“Was that what you were doing to that poor boy?” Merlin asks, sitting up, as if suddenly remembering who she was talking to. “Training recruits?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, before being surprised by his own honesty, “it wasn’t fair, I know. I’ve just been so... frustrated.”

“That’s no excuse,” she said, lacing her long, thin fingers together.

“I know,” he sighed. “I did apologize to Cedric.”

Merlin’s eyebrows raise and a small smile tugs at the sides of her mouth, “Did I awaken your guilty conscience?”

“Something like that,” Arthur grumbles, laying on the bed.

“Do I have to sleep here with you now?” Merlin asked.

“Oh, no,” Arthur says, sitting up and pointing at a door at the other end of his chambers, “this entire corridor is full of empty adjoining rooms. You can pick whichever you like the best, but you will be, um, expected in here every night to, um, do what needs to be done.”

Merlin’s eyes dip to the floor at the mention and Arthur wonders if there is writing on his forehead proclaiming him to be the biggest idiot to ever live. If not, he probably deserves it by now for all the mistakes he’s made with this girl - this brave, good, honest girl that came to Camelot, saved his life and now thinks he’s going to use her and discard her in the search for an heir.

This, he thinks bitterly, is exactly why he never wanted a mistress.

“I’ve never, um,” she begins, knotting her fingers together, “I’m not entirely sure what is meant to happen - my mother told me a little, but not all. I assume you know how to, um-”

“I was taught the theory,” Arthur says, biting his tongue, “but I’ve never actually put it into practice.”

“No,” she says, mouth ajar. “Really?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “but I swear if you ever repeat that to anyone then I can and will make your life a living hell.”

“Got it,” she grins. “You know, you’re not entirely terrible company when you want to be.”

At that moment, the last candle uses up the last of the wick and flickers out, plunging the already dim chamber into darkness.

“Do you want,” he begins, nervously, “do you want to just give it a day-”

“Why?” she asked, “Nobody cares what I want.”

Arthur swallowed. “I do.”

In the dark, where their hands were overlapping, Arthur brought his hand up her arm, up to where he could feel the sleeve of her gown, over her shoulder, and into the crook of her neck.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

Instead of answering, Merlin leaned forward oh-so-tentatively, the two of their lips colliding for the first time quickly and briefly.

She tasted like blueberries, Arthur thought giddily.

“That was all I wanted right now,” she said, before lying down on the bed with a thump. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight? I can’t see the door to my- um, chambers.”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, vacantly, touching his lips hesitantly, with a smile that nobody could see, “that’s fine.”

.

The next morning Merlin awoke first, her hair in a bird’s nest and her dress rumpled. The early morning rays making their way through the curtains were soft, and fell upon the Prince of Camelot gently.

For a moment, Merlin just looked at him, as the sun glinted off his hair making it look like spun gold.

He was kind, she remembered, and left tiptoeing out the door, breathing a sigh of relief when Arthur didn’t even stir. How kind he would continue to be, however, she didn’t know.

.

“This is something that was given to me when I was your age,” Gaius explained to Merlin, handing her a rectangular lump wrapped in red cloth, “but I think you will find more use from it than I ever did.”

Haltingly, Merlin pushed aside the wrapping paper to reveal a book - an old, old book filled to the brim with extra pages, flower presses and diagrams. As her eyes focused on the writing that should have been strange but was as easy for her to read as English, a smile spread on her face.

“This is a magic book,” she said, voice full of wonder.

Gaius’ old eyes twinkled, “Keep it safe.”


	2. Valiant

The next few days Merlin barely saw the prince - he was preparing for a tournament or something, and came back black and blue from the training fields.

“I have this new manservant,” Arthur told her as she struggled to remove the pieces of armour that couldn’t be taken off without help, “he’s terrible. I’ve been trying to train with him and he’s useless.”

“Please say you aren’t throwing knives at him,” Merlin scolded gently. She didn’t have any right, she knew, but her and Arthur were becoming more comfortable around one another, even if she wasn’t comfortable with her new position - she hadn’t yet slept in the room she’d been given, or taken advantage of the seamstresses that seemed to be following her trying to get her measurements.

“No, no,” Arthur groaned, “I’ve been trying to teach him how to fight. George, his name is. He can bring me breakfast promptly, run a bath in seconds, anticipate my every need and yet he’s so-”

He searched for the right word.

“Boring?” Merlin suggested and Arthur nodded.

“Boring,” he sighed. “The man polishes brass for fun. But he can’t fight for the life of him, he just stares at the sword like it’s a goose or something.”

“Just practice with the other knights,” Merlin suggested, “they know what a sword is.”

“But they already know how to use it,” Arthur complained “it’s better to practice by teaching because then when correcting form and things like that, you can correct your own and see somebody else’s weak spots that seasoned competitors wouldn’t have.”

“What about me?” Merlin said, popping a grape into her mouth.

Arthur looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

“You- um- I- _what?”_

“I don’t know how to fight,” Merlin shrugged, “although in my time I’ve bashed several sticks together. And I’m with you already for a reason, you may as well make use of me.”

Arthur went bright red. Merlin, when grasping what he thought she meant, threw a pillow at him.

“For fighting,” she said, _“fighting.”_

“Yes,” Arthur cleared his throat, “fighting.”

.

“We’re never doing this again,” Merlin groaned after a gruelling day in the practice yard with Arthur. This time it was the prince’s turn to help her off with the ill-fitting armour they’d stolen from the armoury.

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Arthur teased her, “I thought it went wonderfully. You’re improving.”

“You would.” she said darkly.

As the final piece of armour was removed Arthur let out a hiss at a huge scrape across her shoulder.

“Did I do that?” he asked, his fingers hovering over the wound.

“Probably,” she said darkly.

“I’ll get some poultice,” he said, and went to the door to ask some guards for one of Gaius’ remedies.

Merlin touched the wound gingerly and thought about just how easy it would be for her to heal it with just a thought, something that on its own would take about a week, with medicine.

_Am I a monster?_ she thought, not for the first time.

.

The morning of the first day of the tournament dawned bright and sunny, and Merlin creeped into ‘her’ room for the first time. It was light and spacious, but there wasn’t anything that marked it out to be _hers -_ bare walls, white linens, and a thin layer of dust.

She opened the wardrobe, and was immediately confronted with yards and yards of silk, lace, cotton and linen.

“Oh my,” she said, touching the sleeve of one before retracting her hand, the material feeling far too rich for a farmer’s daughter to sully.

She came to the conclusion she would have to talk to the seamstresses, and groaned.

.

Merlin crept into the welcoming ceremony for the knights competing late, ducking her head to make herself smaller. The dress was like nothing she’d ever worn before - in fact, it was as if she hadn’t been wearing gowns before but just pieces of material crudely pulled together with coarse thread.

The seamstresses had almost expired in joy when she had come to them, needing a dress for the tournament which quickly turned into her being measured for a score of gowns for both the day and the evening, different materials half of which Merlin had never seen before being held up against her skin and hair and eyes to see what complimented her.

The women had half dragged her out of her best dress, a faded blue number with clumsy embroidery around the hem that Merlin had bought for cheap from a flower seller.

From the scornful way they looked at it, Merlin doubted she’d be seeing it again.

In the end, they sculpted the dress she was wearing around her - it was like artwork, and she half worried how she’d be able to get out of it. The skirts were layered and beautiful, and the bodice was done in such a way it actually gave Merlin’s breasts a bit of shape.

“Just like your eyes,” the head seamstress told her as they decided on a dark blue for the overall colour, and Merlin blushed the colour of a cherry.

“Beautiful,” they said when they finished and Merlin had to agree - the dress made her feel different than she ever had before, like she was confident and strong and worthy. Beautiful, even, although she’d never thought of herself as such before.

In the hall, Uther finished his speech and a loud applause went up. The crowd quickly split into different factions, and Merlin was caught up in the movement. But people that had rushed past her before stepped out of her way, and a couple of servants even bowed to her which made her terribly embarrassed.

She considered changing then - writing it all down as a horrible mistake, but the dress was beautiful and made her feel it. She had come to support Arthur, she reminded herself, no matter how little he may need her support.

And so Merlin made her way to the stands, and sat beside Gwen and Morgana to watch the first day of the tournament.

.

The drums were a sharp beat to the proceedings as knight after knight fell and proceeded through the ranks - some fell down not to rise again, and Merlin’s anxiety rose no matter how much she reminded herself that Arthur had - in his own words - been training to kill since birth.

“And how long have you been training to be a prat, sire?” she had asked and he’d thrown a pillow at her head.

When Arthur’s first battle came around, Merlin cheered as loud as she could, hoping he knew that she was supporting him - but he probably wouldn’t care, she reminded herself. She was a mistress that hadn’t yet slept with him.

Merlin cheered all the same, especially when he won, she and Gwen and Morgana getting to their feet.

“He’s amazing,” she shouted over the roar of the crowd and Morgana nodded, laughing.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” she yelled back, “his ego may never go back down to its normal size, which is large enough already.”

.

That night, a reception was held in honour of the knights that had completed the first day of the competition - Arthur and a knight called Valiant being the favourites to continue on to the final.

“May I offer my congratulations on your victories today?” Valiant approached Arthur, interrupting him and Merlin’s conversation about the merits of a curved sword against a straight one.

Arthur smiled at him tightly, “Likewise.”

Valiant nodded, before walking off, his squire trailing behind him.

“Creep,” Merlin shuddered, and Arthur fought down a laugh.

“Did you see how he and Morgana were looking at one another earlier?” Arthur asked, before shuddering, “I felt quite ill.”

Merlin fought to keep a smile on her face, “Yes,” she said, shortly.

Of course, she knew it was Morgana Arthur wanted. Morgana had grown up in a palace, and she was beautiful, so beautiful it made Merlin’s heart hurt. She was kind and good, fierce, strong and regal - as Gwen said, she was born to be queen. Arthur clearly saw that as well.

A mistress was not a wife. Not even here.

Not even wearing a pretty dress.

“Excuse me, may I retire? I feel unwell.” Merlin said, and although Arthur looked confused by her sudden exit, he didn’t try to stop her.

.

That night in Arthur’s bedchambers, something was different. Arthur was preoccupied, all his answers to Merlin’s attempts to begin a conversation consisting of no more than two syllables.

“Does he really bother you that much?” Merlin asked the prince.

Arthur barely seemed to notice the question. “Who?” he asked, practicing thrusts against an invisible enemy.

“Valiant.”

He noticed that.

The prince turned to her, his jaw clenched. “There’s something not right about him,” he told her, “he just shows up this year, suddenly unstoppable, looking at Morgana and you like, like you’re-”

“Me?” Merlin interrupted him, her eyes growing wide.

“Yes, you,” Arthur said, “he knows you’re mine, everyone in the kingdom knows, but he still looks at you-”

“I’m not yours,” she corrected him sharply, “I’m mine. I belong to me, and only me.”

Arthur sighs, and runs a hand through his hair, “That’s not how it is seen in Camelot. A mistress belongs to the nobleman that claims her, I know you belong to yourself but its like wives belong to their husbands in Ealdor-”

“In Ealdor,” Merlin tells him, taking the final pin out of her hair and allowing it to tumble down her back, “husbands belong to their wives just as much as their wives belong to them. But you can have five other women to your beck and call, and you don’t belong to anyone. A mistress is not a wife.”

“But I don’t,” Arthur said, “Have you forgotten? This was forced on me as much as it was forced on you-”

“It must be such a hardship, having to own some stupid girl to try and get sons on her, even though we haven’t-”

“We haven’t because you’re not ready-”

“Maybe I am!” Merlin shouted.

Arthur looked at her, and ran a hand through his hair. “Go to bed, Merlin. It’s been a long day.”

Eyes full of tears, Merlin obeyed, all but running out of the room.

.

She tried to think of somewhere nobody would be this late at night - the corridors would be full of servants, the kitchens too, the halls full of nobles and so would the rooms. And she wouldn’t go into a room meant for Arthur’s mistresses. She wouldn’t.

Merlin ended up in the armoury, curling up into a sobbing mess on the floor. Her heart burned in her chest.

Arthur’s rejection shouldn’t mean so much to her - it wasn’t like she wanted to be his mistress, his broodmare, his plaything. She wanted to be his friend, she admitted, and they were, they were friends, just about, but she wanted more, more than any stupid country girl should want from the prince of Camelot.

She wanted him to want her. She wanted to be kissed and touched and loved and-

_Hiss._

Merlin shot to her feet, looking around the room for movement, the moonlight streaming through the windows her only way of seeing.

“Hello?” she said, her voice cracking, “Is anyone there?”

_Hiss._

The light fell on a pale shield, the seal showing three snakes wrapped around one another. But they were painted - nothing more than that.

Surely not.

One of the snake’s red eyes blinked.

Merlin looked at it in shock, making to move away when a sword point touched her chest, just beneath her breasts. She looked up sharply, to meet Knight Valiant’s eyes.

“Can I help you?” he said.

Merlin shook her head quickly from side to side, “No, no, I, I was just-”

Valiant lowered his sword. Merlin didn’t dare move as he stepped towards her, and touched beneath her eye where her tears hadn’t yet dried.

“One so beautiful shouldn’t be sad,” he told her, and dread rose in Merlin’s stomach.

“I need to go,” she said, and tried to walk past him but a hard arm made of muscle stopped her in her tracks.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, and Merlin made a break for the door but Valiant was too fast, catching her around her stomach and pushing the wind out of her.

She screamed, but she knew nobody would be around close enough to hear. That was why she’d come here, after all, so nobody could hear her crying.

“Pretty one,” Valiant purred as she struggled in his iron grip, sobbing, “spread your legs for me, like you do for the prince.”

“Please,” she gasped, “please I won’t tell anyone-”

“No,” Valiant said, before forcing her to the ground, “you won’t.”

“Let me go, let me go,” she cried desperately, “Please, don’t, don’t-”

Valiant held her down with one of his knees whilst he began undoing his belt.

Self preservation instinct kicking in, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold as one of maces hanging from the ceiling came loose from its hook and fell down on top of her attacker. Valiant grunted, before falling backwards just as he had gotten his belt undone, unconscious.

Merlin was still crying as she pulled herself from beneath him, and ran as fast as she could out of the armoury, her dress torn and shoes missing.

She ran to the one person she knew without a doubt would and _could_ help her.

.

Morgana was furious.

She had lain the sobbing Merlin down on her bed, helped her off with her ruined dress and put her in one of her own nightgowns, taking note of the scratches and bruises beginning to form all over Merlin’s body that resembled a mailed fist, a knee, a sword point and fingernails.

There was no doubt in Morgana’s mind that Merlin was telling the truth.

And that made her angry.

She marched into the throne room, throwing open the double doors, forcing Uther to look at her along with all his councillors.

“Morgana, we are in the middle-” he began but Morgana cut him off.

“Whilst you are in the middle of betting on a tourney,” she snapped, “your own son’s mistress was assaulted and almost raped by one of the knights you invited into this castle.”

The blood rushed from Uther’s face.

“What?” he said, jaw clenched.

“Merlin came to me with her dress torn, without her shoes, and her body covered in marks - a fist to stop her running, a knee to hold her down, her undergarments ripped half off and a sword point at her belly.”

“This will not stand,” Uther growled, getting to his feet.

“The perpetrator should, by Merlin’s story, still be in the armoury after she managed to grab hold of a beam and dislodge a mace so it fell on his head. Pure luck, else she would have been defiled in _your_ very castle.”

“Let us go,” he snapped, and his advisors trailed after him.

They found Valiant still unconscious in the armoury, along with Merlin’s shoes and ripped material of her dress. His belt was undone as were his breeches, exposing himself to them.

“You need not see this,” Uther told his ward, having her steered out of the room by Camelot’s knights, “this one will be answering for his crimes.”

.

Nobody ever heard of Valiant again - he was scrubbed from history in less than a day. But the rumours continued long after - he was burnt at the stake, said some, and others told that he was whipped then exiled, and more insisted he was beheaded. Many thought it was Arthur who did the deed.

The king’s justice, they all agreed.

Pendragons were, of course, infamously protective of the ones they loved.

.

Arthur knocked on Merlin’s chamber door nervously, the flowers that had been collected for him by a serving girl feeling very flimsy in his hand.

He had won the tournament, but that didn’t seem to matter at all just then.

The door opened after half a minute, a raven haired girl with tired eyes smiling at the sight of him. “Arthur,” she said, “you came.”

“I brought you some flowers,” he said, thrusting out his offering.

Merlin smiled and accepted them. “My mother used to pick me snapdragons like this,” she said, “they’re beautiful. Please come in.”

Arthur stands nervously across from her. “I’m so sorry,” he says, “If I hadn’t sent you away-”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault but Valiant’s,” Merlin said firmly. “Not mine, not yours.”

Arthur smiled at her “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” she said, “although I was wondering if you could give me some more sword lessons.”

Arthur frowned, “You hate sword lessons. You said you’d never do it again.”

“That was before I realized I may need to defend myself one day,” she said, “I won’t be helpless again.”

Arthur nods, “Alright. Tomorrow?”

Merlin smiles “Tomorrow.”

Arthur turns to leave, aware that Merlin needs her rest, but she catches his arm to stop him. “Arthur,” she says, before placing her hands on his cheeks and standing on her toes to kiss him in the light of day, a first for them.

For a moment, the prince stood frozen before returning the kiss gently. They came apart smiling.

“What was that for?” Arthur asked, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“I think the champion earned it,” she said, waving him out of her room. Arthur went through the rest of the day smiling at random intervals, for no reason at all.


	3. The Mark of Nimueh

A few weeks later, Merlin met Gwen in one of the corridors. The maid was carrying a posy of flowers, and beamed at the sight of her friend.

“Merlin!” she cried, jogging to meet her.

“Did someone pick you flowers?” Merlin asked, and Gwen blushed a deep red.

“No, no, I mean, no - hey, would you like one?” Merlin shrugged, but Gwen was insistent. “You can have a purple one,” she said, picking a small, bell shaped flower out of her bouquet, and tucked it behind Merlin’s ear. “Purple is your colour.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said, “it’s beautiful.”

“I mean, not that red isn’t your colour-” Gwen said, nodding to Merlin’s scarlet dress, “you look very nice in red, but I just thought that you’d like a purple-”

“Gwen, it’s lovely.” Merlin laughed.

“I’d better get going, anyway,” Gwen said, still with a faint blush on her cinnamon cheeks.

“And me,” Merlin smiled.

When Merlin touched her own cheeks once Gwen was gone, she found they were hot too. She played idly with the flower in her hair, and thought of how Gwen’s cheerful smile seemed to light up the room.

.

Merlin arrived at the morning’s assembly fairly promptly, although Arthur still looked at her as if she was just as late as always, and beckoned her to his side.

“You’re late again,” he murmured in her ear, his lips brushing against the flower’s petals.

“I’m sorry, but I am getting better.”

“Don’t worry, I’m getting used to it,” he said tartly, “and who’s that flower from, anyway? I got you very nice flowers last week.”

“Gwen,” Merlin replied, “I doubt she’s planning to seduce me.”

“Hmm,” was the only reply, before they both had to hush down as the king’s petitioners had began speaking.

The first person up was Gaius, who looked unusually grave, a cart being pulled behind him by two servants, but the contents covered by a white sheet. Merlin unconsciously gritted her teeth, preparing herself for the worst.

“Sire,” Gaius began, “just this morning I have found four bodies afflicted by a mysterious plague. One in the merchant’s district, two in the lower town and one in the castle.”

With that, Gaius walked back and pulled the sheet down, revealing a white face well into the later stages of rigor mortis, with protruding blue veins and white eyes staring up at nothing. Gasps echoed around the council chamber, and Merlin closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, the sheet was again covering the dead man’s body.

“Why didn’t you report it to me immediately?” the king asked, his expression split between anger and concern.

“I was attempting to find the cause, sire.” Gaius explained, folding his hands in front of him.

“And?” Uther asked.

“I don’t think it’s time to hurry to conclusions,” Gaius began, looking unconvinced by his own words, “the scientific process is, after all, a long one-”

“What are you concealing from me?” Uther asked, his eyes as hard as steel.

Gaius swallowed. “Sire,” he said, “I have seen nothing like it in all my years - the victims are dying within twenty four hours, and it’s spreading fast.”

“What,” Uther continued, “is the cause?”

“I should say the cause - the most likely cause - is sorcery.”

Arthur’s hand found Merlin’s and squeezed. She let out a worried breath.

Uther turned to his son, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Find who did this,” he commanded.

“I will, father,” Arthur said, pulling his hand from hers.

“Conduct door-to-door searches, increase your presence in the towns, double the guards on all the gates...”

They left in a rush, leaving a court full of fear and suspicion, and a corpse in the centre of the assembly hall.

.

Merlin had pulled on one of her few dresses that had survived the whirlwind that was the court seamstresses, and her tough walking boots. She and Arthur exited their chambers at almost exactly the same time, and stared at one another.

“No,” Arthur said as he realized what she intended, “no, no. You aren’t going out there. There’s a magical _plague_.”

“You’re going out,” Merlin said, walking past him leaving him hurrying in her wake, “therefore so am I.”

“If you get hurt-”

“Then I get hurt. You have just as much of a chance of catching it, but you’re still going.”

“I’m the crown prince of Camelot Merlin, I have responsibilities-”

“And I have none except a human responsibility to help as much as I can. And I will be going with or without you.”

She turned, and crossed her arms.

Arthur groaned. “You’re serious?”

“As the grave.”

He caved, as she knew he would. “Don’t go out of my sight,” he said in the end, “and stay away from anyone that shows any sign of disease.”

“How will I help then?” she demanded.

“Merlin,” he said and put his hands on her shoulders, “I cannot allow any harm to come to you. You are under my protection. It’s this or nothing, and I’ll have guards posted outside your room.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” she hissed.

“Try me.”

“ _Fine_. But you’re an idiot.”

Arthur didn’t reply to that, and Merlin wondered when her insults had stopped meaning anything to him.

.

“Arthur!” she called at the top of her voice after hours of searching through houses for even a sign of a sorcerer, and finding either scared families or dead bodies, “ _Arthur!”_

He came running, and his eyes widened at the sight.

“Merlin,” he snapped, “get away from him.”

“But he’s still alive,” Merlin said, kneeling by the plagued man. “Hey,” she said in her most soothing tone, “can you stand? What’s your name?”

A shake of his head and rasping noises coming from this throat were all the answer that came.

Merlin went to feel the heat of his forehead, when her arm was caught and her entire body was wrenched backwards. She stumbled and fell, and looked up to see a glaring prince looking down at her.

“Prat!” she said, and got to her feet, “what are you doing?”

“Potentially saving your life, you idiot,” he shot right back. “Did you touch him?”

“No,” Merlin said, and looked over at the man whose movements were already growing more sluggish by the moment, “but Arthur, he needs help. He needs Gaius.”

“Gaius won’t be able to help at all,” Arthur said, “and neither can you. If we can’t find the cause, we don’t know how to cure it. That man is, as much as I hate to say it, as good as dead.”

“But he’s not dead yet!” Merlin cried, “We have to try something!”

“What?” Arthur said, “What can we try? How do we combat a sorcerer’s plague? Huh?”

_A sorcerer’s cure,_ Merlin wanted to say.

Instead she looked down at her feet, “I don’t know.”

Arthur sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to help as much as you,” he said, “but we haven’t even got any way of preventing the spread, let alone knowing how it kills. Gaius will find something soon. He has to.”

He didn’t sound as sure as Merlin had hoped he would.

.

“Why would someone use magic for this?” Merlin asked Gaius as he examined the stomach acid of an infected woman.

“Magic corrupts,” Gaius said shortly, “absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

“But... not all magic is bad,” Merlin said, staring at the white eyed gaze of the victim of the plague. “I know it isn’t.”

“It’s neither good nor bad,” Gaius explained, “it is like a sword. It is only as good or bad as your actions are when you wield it. A sword may kill, but without the strength behind it of a human being, it becomes nothing more than a piece of sharp metal.”

The door burst open.

Merlin jumped and turned, to see knights bedecked in the robes of Camelot storming through the door with Arthur.

“There, over there, through there-” he began barking orders before he caught sight of her and sighed “I should have known I couldn’t keep you away from this- _no,_ Galahad, not in the privy! Sorry Gaius, we’re searching every room in town.”

Merlin swallowed a snort of laughter at the look of embarrassment on the young guard’s face, who slowly closed the door with wide eyes.

“What for?” Gaius asked.

“The sorcerer,” Arthur said shortly.

“Why would he be here?” Merlin asked.

Arthur shrugged, “Just doing my job.”

“I have nothing to hide,” Gaius said in a tone of voice that said _your father and I will be having words about this:_ “Go on then, search!”

As soon as Arthur had gone to another part of the room, Gaius said under his breath so only Merlin could hear, “What did you do with that book I gave you?”

“In my new chambers,” she whispered back, “I found a false back in the wardrobe by accident. It’s safe.”

Gaius nodded, before scolding Arthur about touching his precious books. The look of disgust on Arthur’s face after learning what the subject was enough to keep Merlin entertained for the rest of the day.

.

By the time Merlin woke up the next morning, the death toll had risen to 42 just in the lower town.

“Have you still not found anything?” she asked Arthur, who hadn’t slept in his bed last night - or anywhere at all, by the bags under his eyes.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” he said, putting his head in his hands as he sat down on the bed, “I don’t know what else to do.”

“What did your father say?” she asked, half afraid of the answer.

“He’s established a curfew,” Arthur told her, “but I don’t know if it’ll help. And he said to cordon off the lower town.”

“But those people-” Merlin began, with wide eyes.

“They shouldn’t actually be any worse off,” Arthur said “I thought the same thing and consulted Gaius about his findings. We now know it’s not spread by touch, so it must be something all the victims have ingested. But what do peasants and lords alike eat? Their diets are completely different. I don’t think the spread will stop.”

“Well, it has to be something everyone needs - milk? Ale? Bread?”

“The bread comes in different classes, so it won’t be that. The milk is only drunk by peasants at this time of year who can’t afford other drink, and the ale is different as well. I just can’t think-”

“The water,” Merlin said, suddenly.

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed, before it shut with a click. “The water,” he echoed, before standing up. “I need to go talk with my father,” he said, pulling on his coat, and leaning down and pressing a hard, unexpected kiss to Merlin’s forehead, “Thank you.”

And then he was gone in a whirlwind, invigorated.

Merlin slipped on her shoes and made her way to Gaius’ chambers - her and Arthur’s suspicions already solidifying themselves in her mind.

.

She opened Gaius’ chambers to the sight of Gwen trying to speak through sobs to the old physician, her words coming out in short bursts.

“Please Gaius,” she begged, “he’s the only family I have...”

At the sound of the door opening, she turned to look at Merlin, who quickly went to the distressed girl’s side.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked.

“My father, he has the sickness-” Gwen explained through hiccups.

“Gwen,” Gaius said solemnly, “I have no cure, I am sorry-”

“I’m begging you,” Gwen sobbed, “ _please_.”

“I wish there was something I could do-” Gaius said, but Merlin interrupted him.

“There might be.” Gaius and Gwen turned to look at her, expressions of scepticism and hope on each of their faces respectively, “Me and Arthur just figured out how it’s spread,” Merlin volunteered, and Gaius looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, prompting her to go on. “The water. It has to be the water. It’s not food, air, contact or ale - the only common denominator is the water. Can you do anything with that? Arthur has gone to speak with his father-”

“Even if I began examining the water right now, it would be too late-”

With a final cry of distress, Gwen rushed out the room.

“There has to be something I can do,” Merlin insisted, “why would I have these powers just to stand aside and watch a dear friend’s father die-”

“No, Merlin,” Gaius said harshly, “it is too risky. You are meant for greater things.”

“What could be more important than saving lives?” Merlin countered.

“Saving your own,” Gaius snapped, before sighing and removing his glasses. “I know you mean well, but the only cure is one to be found with science. If you truly want to help, go fetch me some of the water so I can begin testing.”

Merlin stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, with her mind already made up on the correct course of action.

.

It took her half a day to collect all the herbs that promoted healing from the woods, and the rest of it to put them into appropriate combinations in little cotton bags Gaius used for collecting samples, just like her book said.

_To cure the incurable,_ the book had said, _this sachet must be placed beneath the invalid’s head after bathing in moonlight for an hour. Come morning, they should be well. If not, refer to page 73._

She left ten of the little bags on her windowsill, before using the door that interconnected her and Arthur’s chambers to visit him. It would take around an hour, as their nightly talks did, and then she could go and save Gwen’s father.

Merlin knew it was a risky plan, and she knew Gaius would never approve. She also knew that if Arthur decided to use the door between their chambers for any reason, she would have a lot of explaining to do.

But she had to. It was the only choice.

Her and Arthur were still in some kind of bizarre, halting courtship that was of course no courtship at all - it wasn’t like they were going to be married, she was just for childbearing, but neither of them wanted their relationship to be like that.

When she came to Arthur’s rooms, kicking the door shut behind her, she called out hello and began undoing her plait as she always did, as at this point in the day it always ached.

“Merlin-” Arthur’s voice called from somewhere she couldn’t see, “Don’t come any closer, just stay-”

Merlin turned towards the source of the noise, and saw George, Arthur’s efficient and humourless manservant scuttling towards the door in a half-bow.

“A thousand apologies, your majesty,” he stuttered before sprinting out the room.

“What the-” Merlin began before Arthur came into view, half dressed, tugging on some breeches. His skin was shining in the light, belying that he was very recently wet, and his hair was flat against his head and darker than usual.

“Did I interrupt something?” Merlin asked, disbelief and laughter warring on her face.

“No, no,” Arthur said, valiantly trying to do up his belt without looking at it, “it’s just George, the one time the man is late and somehow fails to run a bath quickly-”

Still struggling with his belt, he walked towards her, his bare feet leaving behind wet footprints on the tiled floor. “Stupid thing,” he muttered, “I was late back from my audience with Father, and then fell asleep - he’s going to have all the water inside and outside the castle boiled before use to try and combat the spread of the illness, so George had to boil the water and then wait for it to cool, and then somehow failed to realize it had gotten as cold as ice whilst he was waiting, so then had to heat it again-”

“Poor George,” Merlin laughed.

“Poor George my arse,” Arthur swore as he threw down his belt buckle in disgust.

“Do you need some help?” she asked.

“I can do up a belt, Merlin,” he said crossly, but instead of continuing his attempts glared at it.

“Can you now,” she said, before closing the distance between them and pulling the belt through the buckle and clipping it in without a word, in less than five seconds.

Arthur’s cheeks flushed red. “It’s been a long day,” he said, defensively.

“I know,” she said, and before she could think better of it, put her head on his shoulder. “Gwen’s father caught the disease. She’s terrified.”

“I bet she is,” Arthur said sadly, and Merlin felt his hand fiddle with her hair that she had only managed to half undo. “Do you want me to do this?”

“I can do it,” she said.

“I know,” he chuckled, “but do you want me to?”

Merlin felt her heart beat a little faster.

“Alright,” she said, and sat down at the foot of the bed, and Arthur sat behind her, undoing the long plait. “If your father saw this,” she said, “I think he’d have a heart attack.”

“I don’t want to think about my father right now,” Arthur said, his voice sounding huskier than usual. Merlin swallowed, and let him continue in silence.

As the final knot was undone, Arthur gathered her black tresses together and put them over her left shoulder. “That’s better,” she said, hyperaware of the prince’s hand on the bare skin of her shoulder.

“I’m glad,” Arthur murmured, before placing a kiss on the curve of her neck, eliciting a gasp. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Merlin said quickly, “no.”

Arthur’s lips felt like flower petals, and she moaned as he began undoing the laces of her dress, tugging at them with fluid, determined movements, and she ended up in his lap, something long and hard poking into her thigh.

“Are you still okay?” he said in her ear, nibbling at the shell of it.

In answer, Merlin moaned, her heart beating a painful tattoo in her chest as she leaned into him. His hands were large and warm against her back as he lifted her undershirt off, and she wriggled her hips in compliance so that her clothes pooled on the floor, and put her thumbs beneath her underwear.

“Wait, wait,” he gasped, “get up.”

She did, and stood before him in just her undergarments, her eyes and his both reflecting the hunger in their souls. She let her final piece of clothing fall to the floor, and forgot to feel fear or nervousness at the worship in the prince’s eyes.

“Take off your trousers,” she said, her voice rasping slightly, and Arthur proved much more adept at taking off his belt than putting it on. For a moment they stood opposite one another, just gazing at each other’s naked bodies, before desire overwhelmed them and they crashed together in a searing kiss - none of the innocence of the previous one finding its way in, Arthur hands raking through her hair and her hand gripping onto his naked torso.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her in between kisses as they fell onto the bed, everywhere their skin touched skin seeming to crackle with electricity, “so gorgeous.” His hand cupped one of her breasts, and squeezed, making something inside of her burn with desire.

“Need you,” she whispered in a cracked voice, “need you.”

“Okay,” he hummed, “okay. This might hurt.”

But it didn’t. Not at all. It felt like a puzzle piece slotting into place, and with every movement the bed rocked and Merlin’s world exploded with pleasure.

.

Afterwards, Arthur rolled off of her and they used the lukewarm water from his bath to clean the remainders of their coupling from their bodies, the blood on Arthur’s cock looking pink in the water and the white sticky substance on Merlin’s thighs sinking to the bottom of the tub.

Then they crawled into bed, and Merlin couldn’t believe how tired she felt. She almost slipped off to sleep, but managed to keep herself awake until Arthur’s breaths had gone even and slow. She had a job to do.

.

She went back through her room, and put on one of her old dresses. Then she travelled down the corridor, through all the empty rooms for future mistresses (a thought that made something in her chest ache in a way it hadn’t before) and came out the other end of the long corridor, at the top of the stairs. She saw the flicker of torches from the other end where she knew the doors to Arthur’s chambers would be, but couldn’t see the actual guards, so she knew they couldn’t see her.

Merlin crept down the stairs with bare feet, before slipping on her sandals at the bottom. She wore her old, dark brown travelling cloak and clutched one of the bags in her hand tightly.

The lower town was patrolled by knights and guards, all looking more tired and suspicious than the one before. She had worked out the changes earlier, and slipped between them, past the water pump, making a few doors creak and haystacks shudder to divert attention, and in no time at all she was at Gwen’s house which was a mercifully short distance from the castle.

She walked in on the scene of Gwen curled up at the foot of her father’s sickbed, her face relaxed in sleep. In contrast, her father’s face was as white as chalk and every few moments he shifted, a grimace on his face.

Tiptoeing, Merlin stepped over her friend’s feet and got down on her haunches, and barely daring to breathe placed the bag of herbs and spices beneath the diseased man’s pillow.

_“Nous elframdonnemdonam,”_ she whispered, and felt the rush of magic flow towards Gwen’s father from her eyes. She smiled as she saw the sickly pallor leaving his skin, and his face relaxing, the pain gone from his body.

It took her longer than she had expected to get back to the castle, but she did make it before she had even been gone an hour, slipping off her shoes where she’d left them and placing her dress back on a hanger in her wardrobe. Naked and blushing down to her collarbone, she opened the door connecting her and Arthur’s chambers shallowly and eased herself back into the bed, pulling the covers over her.

After five minutes or so, Arthur’s deep breaths lulled her into a slumber, and the last thing she felt before slipping into unconsciousness was Arthur’s arm winding around her waist, as if she’d never been gone.

.

Merlin woke up smiling. She found out later that in the night 84 lives had been lost, but she knew it could have been 85. And it wasn’t. Because of her.

Arthur was smiling too, and kissed her temple as she stirred, his hand tracing circles on the skin of her back.

For about a minute, it was peaceful, both of them looking at each other without speaking but understanding the other almost perfectly, a dewy-eyed look of adoration in each of their eyes.

This moment was shattered as the door slammed open, and George walked in with several silver platters piled high with food. At first he didn’t seem to notice the second figure in the prince’s bed, but when he did he froze, his eyes wide.

Merlin let out a small squeak of shock and dove for a sheet that had been tugged down in the night to expose her small breasts. “George!” Arthur roared, “Get out!”

He got out.

Merlin began laughing first, and then Arthur joined in after a moment.

“He looked like he was about to faint,” she cackled, tears gathering in her eyes.

“That,” panted Arthur between wheezes of laughter, “was the most emotion I’ve ever seen him show.”

“I’d better go,” Merlin said reluctantly, pulling on her fine dress from where it was crumpled on the floor, “before I cause your manservant to have a coronary.”

.

Merlin poked her head into Morgana’s chambers, and saw Gwen at work, picking up the king’s wards clothes with a spring in her step.

“How’s your father?” she asked, “Is he any better?”

Gwen turned, and smiled when she saw who was at the door. “Yes, actually,” she said, beaming, “it’s incredible. It’s a miracle.”

“His skin’s clear?” Merlin pressed, “Back to normal?”

“Yes,” Gwen nodded, still smiling.

“Wonderful,” Merlin said, ducking back into the corridor before Gwen could ask any difficult questions, and carrying onto the king’s assembly.

.

Uther had finished with the day’s petitioners when the great doors slammed open. In walked Arthur, who had been strangely absent from the morning’s assembly, looking grave.

Behind him walked two guards, holding a struggling woman - all the breath came out of Merlin’s lungs when she realized who it was. _Gwen._

“I haven’t done anything,” she was crying, and behind them rushed in Morgana, shouting her maid’s name, “Please, I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I believe her,” Morgana interjected, “perhaps this disease is not always fatal-” Uther waved her down, and she was cut off by the prince.

“Father,” Arthur said, “I found a magical poultice in her father’s house. Yesterday, he was close to death and today he is back in his shop, working. He attests she was the only person with him.”

Uther looked at his son. “Well done,” he said, and Arthur nodded.

“No,” Gwen cried, “please, your majesty, I’m innocent!”

Uther’s face was hard and unsympathetic. “Bring her to the dungeons. She is to be executed as soon as possible, to end the plague on these lands-”

“Your Majesty!” Merlin said, as loud as she could, stepping out in front of the king, “Gwen is innocent of this. I was the one to cure her father, I went out last night-”

“Father,” Arthur said again, walking beside her and tugging her back with a harsh hand on her shoulder, so hard that Merlin stumbled and almost ended up on the floor beside Gwen, “my mistress is trying to save her friend, there is no truth in these wild accusations.”

“What proof have you that she is lying?” Uther asked.

Arthur lifted up his chin, “She was with me all of last night, through to this morning.” Murmurs rose in the room, and Merlin’s cheeks burned red. “I and my manservant can attest to it. There were guards stationed outside last night, and nobody left or entered in all that time. She is simply upset.”

“Very well,” Uther said, “I can understand the desire to protect, even if your mistress’ loyalties are misplaced.” Merlin shuddered, tears beginning to track down her cheeks. “You,” he said to Guinevere, “will be put to death. This is my will.”

Merlin was strong armed out of the room by Arthur, tears still running down her cheeks as Gwen screamed and Morgana shouted and courtiers gossiped.

“How,” she groaned to Arthur as soon as she was out of sight, slumping down the wall, “how could you do this? She’s no enchantress, she’s just a maidservant-”

“What am I to do?” Arthur snapped, “Turn a blind eye because you’ve made friends with a sorceress?”

“She’s no sorceress, she’s not-”

“And neither are you,” said Arthur firmly, “but you said you were, even though you and I both know you didn’t leave the room last night. I know you were trying to help, and I don’t believe that her trying to save her father makes her the sorceress that started the plague, but my father will not listen, and if he’s right then her death could save thousands, millions, even, and our population is threatened enough as it is-”

“And if it doesn’t?” Merlin cried, “If you murder her, an innocent girl, and the plague continues? What then? If people get better more and more often and she was put to death for a natural phenomena? What will you do?”

Arthur clenched his jaw, and pulled her to her feet, wiping the tears off her cheeks, “My duty.”

.

Merlin paced in her rooms, unable to stop crying. This was all her fault. Gwen was going to die.

She wanted to tell her that she was only trying to help, she only wanted Gwen’s father to live, but it wasn’t worth Gwen dying, sweet, kind Gwen who never hurt anybody. And she’d made Arthur believe that she was a liar that hadn’t left, because she’d unintentionally covered her tracks so well he wouldn’t believe her even when she confessed in court.

Merlin screamed in frustration, and punched the wall. Blood from her knuckles ran down the brickwork.

The door to Arthur’s chamber and the future mistress’s chambers had been locked at the prince’s command, and there were guards on her door.

“I don’t want you around the enchantress,” Arthur told her even as she hurled abuse at him, punching at him, but he acted as if they hurt him no more than an insect’s bite would, “please understand.”

“I thought I was doing good,” she whispered to nobody, “I never meant for this.”

.

Roughly half an hour after she was locked in, the door opened. She looked up to see Gaius walking in, his bag of medicines over his shoulder.

“Gaius?” she asked, hardly daring to hope.

“The prince asked me to give you something to help you calm down,” he said shortly, and her hopes fell.

“Gaius, you need to let me out,” she said in a rush as the door closed behind the physician, “I have to save Gwen. It’s all my fault. I thought I was saving a life-”

Gaius sighed and prompted her to sit down on the bed. Merlin did so, still talking as Gaius opened his bag and fished around inside of it. “An easy solution is like a light in a storm,” he said, “rush for it at your peril.”

“I need to fix it,” she said, as Gaius brought a vial out and handed it to her.

“Drink up,” he ordered.

Merlin looked at the vial, “I’m fine, I’m calm, I just need to get to Gwen, I need more time-”

“Merlin,” he said, and raised his eyebrow. “Drink it.”

Unhappily, Merlin uncorked the vial and downed it in one, a strange scent of elderberries sticking to her tongue. “I still have other sachets,” she said, “maybe you could go round the village and place them down, the spell is in the book-”

“I know the spell, Merlin,” he said. “Where are the rest of the poultices?”

“Under the floorboard,” she told him, and tried to get up but her legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Gaius hobbled behind her, and after a minute came back with the nine remaining cotton bags.

“These?” he asked, and Merlin nodded.

“Gaius,” she said, her words beginning to slur, “I feel odd.”

“You will for a bit,” he told her, and pushed on her shoulders so she lay down, her eyelids feeling heavy, “sleep now.”

“No,” she moaned as he put the sachets in his bag, and buttoned it up, “please, I need to help Gwen-”

She knew no more after that.

.

Merlin wakes groggily dusk draws in, head spinning. There’s a next to her, and she opens her eyes to see a blond haired prat’s face swimming before her eyes.

“Merlin,” he says, “Merlin.”

She’s about to relax next to him, when the day’s events come back to her - Gwen has been accused of sorcery. She’s going to die. Merlin couldn’t save her.

Merlin sits bolt upright. “Gwen,” she says, “is she still alive? Has she been-” She can’t say the word.

“Hey, hey,” Arthur puts his hands on her shoulders, “she’s alive. She’s fine.”

“She’s going to die,” Merlin wailed, “I couldn’t save her-”

“We’re all going to die,” Arthur told her, “but Gwen isn’t going to die just yet. Not today or tomorrow, at any rate.”

Merlin opened and closed her mouth.

“You were right. Gwen wasn’t the sorceress. Whilst she was under lock and key, nine more magic poultices found their way beneath people’s pillows, curing them. She couldn’t have done it, and none of them know her. She’s been cleared. She’s been freed.”

Merlin’s breath came out in short gasps, “She’s- she’s okay?”

“Myself and Morgana both presented the facts to my father,” Arthur said, “and with common sense and logic on our side, he saw the error of his judgement.”

_Gaius,_ Merlin realized. He saved them, to save her, even when he said he wouldn’t.

“You convinced him?” she said, lightness building in her stomach, “You saved her?”

“Well,” Arthur said, shrugging, “it wasn’t just me. But I suppose I-”

Merlin didn’t let him finish, hooking her arms around his neck and kissing him with all the strength she had. After a moment of shock, Arthur kissed her back.

“Am I forgiven?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, “yes, yes, yes. Thank you, thank you.”

.

The next day, Merlin and Arthur entered the king’s assembly together, hand in hand. Gwen was standing at the side, having been officially released and compensated for her ordeal in front of the entire court, and when she saw Merlin she grinned.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Merlin told her, and Gwen hugged her as hard as she could.

“You tried to save me, even though it would have meant your life,” Gwen said, “I won’t forget it. Not ever.”

Morgana too seemed not to be in a forgetful mood, smiling at both Merlin and Gwen from Uther’s side. Arthur kissed Merlin’s cheek before standing on the other side of his father.

“Today,” Uther said, “we will rid ourselves of this disease. My son, Arthur, will be going down to the city’s water source to slay the magical creature living beneath us, conjured by an enemy of Camelot. Gaius, our court physician, has identified it as an _afanc_ and knows how to destroy it and all its ill effects. Camelot will once again be free of the corruption of magic.”

A cheer went up around the hall. Merlin’s smile became fixed.

“Once again, magic has tried to destroy us,” Uther continued when the crowd hushed, “but we will not let it. We are stronger together than they _ever_ will be.”

.

“It was ugly as anything,” Arthur told her that night at the feast celebrating the end of the plague, “big and brown and sticky. It looked like it was made of mud.”

“Clay,” Merlin volunteered. Arthur looked at her oddly, as she hadn’t been there for the final showdown. “Gaius told me,” she expanded, “from one of his books.”

“That man has a book on everything,” Arthur muttered.

“It’s a good thing he does, otherwise he wouldn’t have known how to kill it.”

That was a white lie - it wasn’t written down how to kill an _afanc_ , she’d had to go to the Great Dragon to discover how, the method lost to man. It had turned out to be fire - Arthur himself had shoved a torch right in the _afanc’_ s ugly face, and that had been the end of it.

_(You are but one side of a coin,_ the Great Dragon had told her, in his annoying vague way, _Arthur is the other.)_

“Yes,” Merlin agreed, “a good thing indeed.”

Beneath the table, their hands intertwined, where nobody could see.


	4. The Poisoned Chalice

King Bayard’s party arrived at midday about two weeks later - the air in the castle was frantic and more often than not Merlin spent her days in the laundry, wearing her old gowns and helping all the servants - after a few days of working flat out to greet the Mercian king, nobody protested the prince’s lowborn mistress lending a hand.

“The treaty will save many lives,” Arthur said, “I’m glad that my father managed to get Bayard to agree to his terms.”

Merlin forced herself not to mention the fact that Uther had been the one to start the war in the first place, instead pulling on the scarlet and cloth of gold dress Arthur had had made for the feast. It was in the Camelot colours, and Merlin knew that it was a sign of unity - that, and a way of Arthur staking his claim.

“I still don’t know why I have to be there,” Merlin complained, even as she silently marvelled at the shining stitching and soft fabric. She wouldn’t give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing how much she loved it.

“Because,” Arthur told her, pulling on his red tunic, “if I have to sit through the boring speeches, then you do too.”

“Such a prat,” she muttered under her breath, before picking up the previous day’s clothes to bring down to the laundry. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“What are you doing with those?” he asked, “George will be along in a minute.”

“Even George is feeling the strain right now,” Merlin replied, “the man has been polishing all the silverware twice daily. I think he’s about to have kittens. It won’t hurt him not to have to make the trip.” At Arthur’s unconvinced look, Merlin raised her eyebrows, “Unless you want to?”

“I have to go and meet Bayard,” Arthur said, pulling on his brown jacket. “Sorry, no can do.”

“What wonderful timing,” Merlin said as the great bell sounded, signalling the arrival of a foreign king.

Arthur stuck out his tongue at her.

.

As Merlin was making her way down to the kitchens, she turned a sharp corner and she banged into a Mercian servant.

“Sorry!” the girl said, gathering up the linens that looked as if they’d just gotten ruined again. “Excuse me, I wasn’t look where I was going.”

Merlin got down on her knees to help, smiling at the handmaiden. “It’s alright,” she told her, “Let me give you a hand.”

From the floor, their eyes locked. The servant’s eyes were stunningly blue, popping from the colour of her turban which had a few loose tendrils hanging down from the sides. Together they rose, and Merlin handed the girl the things she had collected.

“There you go,” she said, smiling, “no damage done.”

“Thank you,” the maid said, hugging the fabrics close to her chest. She then wrestled one hand free and held it out, “I’m Cara.”

“Merlin,” she replied.

The girl’s topaz eyes widened “You’re Arthur’s... servant?” she said, haltingly, as if unsure.

Merlin fought down a grin. Camelot really kept their fertility problem under wraps - in fact, if she was asked she _was_ Arthur’s servant - Uther thought that if Bayard knew how difficult it was to conceive in Camelot, then he might decide to call the treaty off and simply wait for a few years until all they had were old men fighting with no young soldiers to replace them. He probably wasn’t wrong, either.

“Sort of,” she said.

“It must be such an honour,” Cara gushed.

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin said, lacking enthusiasm, “an honour.”

“Or... not,” Cara said, and smiled, her laugh a warm sound. All her teeth were white and straight, and for a moment Merlin was struck by her beauty, the kind of beauty she’d dreamed of having for so long. “Anyway,” the girl said, “best get on. Thank you again, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded as Cara brushed past her, and felt her cheeks unintentionally heat.

She shook her head and carried on down to the laundry, but still was unable to stop thinking of Cara’s eyes. There was something about that girl; she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

.

That night at the feast, Merlin stood at the side of the room with the servants, whereas she would usually be sitting near Arthur. Uther took the secrecy very seriously.

In her cloth of gold and scarlet dress, however, Merlin knew nobody would mistake her for just another servant, but she supposes they could think she was simply a favourite of the royal family.

Several times as the treaty was being signed, Merlin’s eyes caught with Cara’s, as if some force kept on pushing them together, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the signing.

Gwen followed her gaze, “She’s pretty,” she said, before shrugging, “but only for a handmaiden. Arthur only has eyes for you.”

That much was true - Arthur kept on looking over his shoulder at her, and it was making Merlin flustered and embarrassed with the way his eyes seemed to twinkle every time she squirmed.

“She’s pretty for a princess,” Merlin said, “not that I noticed.”

“No,” Gwen agreed, as the signing finished, a smile tugging at the edge of her mouth, “of course not.”

Merlin elbowed her in the ribs in retaliation as the cheers began for a new peace with Mercia, stepping away smoothly so Gwen couldn’t respond in kind. Bayard stood and began what she assumed would be the first of many boring speeches. She zoned out, only really hearing the end of what he was saying as a box was brought before Uther and Arthur.

“...these ceremonial goblets,” Bayard was saying, “to you Uther and your son, Arthur, in hope that our newfound friendship may last.”

“Merlin,” a voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Cara, worry in every line of her face, “I need to speak to you.” She wrung her hands in front of her.

“What is it?” Merlin asked, but Cara frantically shook her head.

“Not here, please,” she begged, “I don’t know who else to tell.”

Merlin nodded, and together they walked out the hall as discreetly as they could, although Merlin could feel Gaius’ eyes burning holes in her back. She hoped Arthur hadn’t noticed - she’d promised to suffer through all the dry speeches with him, and he’d get cross if he thought she was abandoning him.

“It wasn’t until Bayard brought out the goblets that I realized,” Cara told her the moment they were out the room, practically having kittens, “I swear, I had no idea but it’s all just slotted into place-”

“What?” Merlin asked, and stamped down the temptation to shake the answers out of her. “What did you see?”

“A few days ago,” Cara said, “I was bringing Bayard dinner and he didn’t expect me. I forgot to knock, and he was there, with the goblets, and he put a flower in the one that he just- oh, I can’t say, he’ll kill me-”

“No,” Merlin said firmly, “he won’t. I’ll protect you. Tell me, Cara, tell me what you saw.”

“Bayard is no friend of Camelot,” she told her, “He craves the kingdom for himself, as he always has. He believes if he kills Arthur then Uther’s spirit will be broken - that he will be crushed in battle. I saw him put something in Arthur’s chalice,” Cara said faintly, “I think- I think it was poison.”

“Cara,” Merlin said as she felt all the blood drain from her face, “are you sure?”

“ _Yes.”_ Cara said, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Merlin nodded before turning on her heel and rushing into the hall, “Stop!” she cried. Everyone was standing with their goblets raised, but no one seemed to have taken a drink yet. All eyes turned to her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Bayard demanded.

“Your Majesty,” Merlin cried, “Arthur’s chalice has been poisoned!”

“What?” Uther said sharply.

“Merlin,” Arthur snapped, “what are you doing?”

“Bayard laced Arthur’s goblet with poison,” Merlin announced to the room. Gasps rang out and Bayard reached for his sword.

“It is an outrage!” he said, but the moment he bore steel so did all of his and Camelot’s knights.

“Order your men to put down their swords!” Uther commanded. Bayard stayed silent as more armed men of Camelot ran in, armed to the teeth. “You are outnumbered.”

“I will not allow this insult to go unchallenged,” Bayard declared, a flinty look in his eye.

Uther’s gaze turned to Merlin, and she forced herself not to shrink before it. “On what grounds do you base this accusation? Why do you think it is poisoned?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but with a withering glare his father silenced him.

“He was seen lacing it,” Merlin says, “by a member of his household.”

She had promised not to reveal Cara’s identity, but that didn’t mean she was to make herself seem as if she was fabricating the story by not citing any source at all.

“I won’t listen to this any longer,” Bayard bit out.

“Pass me the goblet,” Uther said, walking around from the high table. Merlin did so, and tried to still her hand from shaking with limited success. He walked towards Bayard looking at the cup in question all the while. “If you are telling the truth-”

“I am,” Bayard ground out.

“Then you have nothing to fear, do you?” he said, meeting the other king’s eyes with such ferocity that some of the Camelot guards almost stumbled back. But Bayard didn’t move, jawing flexing beneath his beard.

In one movement, Bayard sheathed his sword and motioned to be given the cup so he could prove his innocence. Uther shook his head, “No,” he said “if this does prove to be poison, I want the pleasure of killing you myself.”

He turned, and his gaze landed on Merlin.

Arthur seemed to read his mind, “No! Father! If it is poison, she’ll die! You can’t-”

“Then we’ll know she was telling the truth. Drink.” Uther commanded without emotion, holding the cup out to Merlin. She took it, feeling oddly calm. She had saved Arthur, even if she wouldn’t be able to save herself.

“And if she lives?” Bayard demanded.

“You will have my apologies,” Uther said, “and can do with her what you will.”

“Uther please,” Gaius said from the back of the hall, “she’s just a girl, she doesn’t know what she’s saying-”

“Drink,” Uther intoned, and Merlin made up her mind.

“Merlin, apologise, this is a mistake, _I’ll_ drink it-” Arthur interrupted and made for the cup but before he could even touch it Merlin acted.

In one fluid movement, she brought her lips to the lip of the cup and bent her head back, taking several deep draws from it. The wine tasted sweet on her tongue, with something bitter hitting the back of her throat.

Every eye was on her as she brought the goblet down, a triumphant look in Bayard’s eyes as there was no effect.

“It’s... fine.” Merlin said in confusion.

Uther waved his hand to Bayard. “She’s all yours.”

Just as all the swords were going down and a relieved air was coming again to the hall, Merlin’s throat suddenly constricted. She choked, and gasped for more oxygen that wouldn’t come. A rasping sound came from her as she clutched at her neck, shaking.

She fell to the floor, the world spinning, her chest burning, and the last thing she heard was Arthur shouting her name.

.

Arthur heaved Merlin into his arms, her dead weight taxing but nothing he couldn’t handle. Her head lolled back, and her hair was loose for once, the long black strands almost brushing the floor as he hurried to Gaius chambers.

 _Don’t let her die,_ he prayed to a faceless deity, _don’t let her die, don’t let her die. Not now, not for me. Don’t let her die._

Gwen’s feet pattered on the stone floor behind him, and Gaius led the way with wide, worried steps. Arthur looked into Merlin’s face as he lay her down in Gaius’ chambers. _You can’t die, not now. We’ve only just began._

“I need to find out what the poison is,” Gaius said, “Gwen, the goblet.”

Morgana’s handmaiden obediently passed it over, and Gaius slipped his glasses on. Arthur’s hand shook as he stroked Merlin’s burning brow. The poison was meant for him. He should have been the one to drink.

“She’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” He asked Gaius, who looked preoccupied with the goblet and didn’t answer. Gwen sunk down on the other side of the bed and pulled Merlin’s long, thick hair off her body.

“There’s something stuck in it,” Gaius seemed to say to himself, “a flower petal of some kind.” The physician held it up to the light.

“Her brow’s on fire,” Gwen said worriedly.

“Keep her cool,” Gaius said absentmindedly as he rifled through his books, “it will help control the fever.”

He thumped a thick tome down on the table, and seemed to immediately flick to the correct page. “The petal comes from the mortaeus flower,” he said, “it says here that someone who ingests the mortaeus flower can only be saved by a potion made from the leaf of the very same flower.” He turned the page, “Apparently it can only be found in the caves beneath the forest of Balon. The flower grows on the leaves of the mortaeus tree.”

“How far is that?” Arthur asked, his body thrumming with nerves “Balon? A day or two’s ride?”

Gaius read from the text with growing dread in his voice, “Those who cross the mountains in search of the mortaeus flower rarely return alive, most likely thanks to the Cockatrice, a venomous magical creature who one drop of venom from means certain death.”

“Sounds like fun,” Arthur announced, his attempt at a joke falling flat as all the humour in his voice leached away as his eyes fixed on Merlin’s dying form.

“Arthur, no,” Gaius said, “it’s too dangerous.”

“If I don’t get the antidote, she’ll die. Won’t she?” Gaius swallowed, and the old man’s eyes became impossibly sad.

“The mortaeus induces a slow and painful death without treatment,” The physician recited, as if reading it from a book, but this was not hypothetical - this was _Merlin,_ his Merlin, dying because of him. “She’ll have four, maybe five days, but not much longer. Eventually, she will die.”

“I have to go. I owe it to her.”

Arthur stormed out the door, unable to erase the image of Merlin falling to the ground, as white as a sheet, from his mind.

.

“What’s the point in having a taste-tester if you’re going to get yourself killed anyway?” his father demanded, marching down the corridor.

“I won’t let her die,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” his father said shortly, “you are my own son and heir and I won’t risk losing you for the sake of a mistress.”

“Because her life is worthless?” Arthur demanded, angrily, stopping.

“No,” his father said, turning, “Because it is worth _less_ than yours.”

“I can save her,” Arthur insisted, “as she has saved me. Let me take some men-”

“-no-”

“We’ll find the antidote, bring it back-”

“I said no!” Uther roared.

Filled with a strange kind of courage, Arthur shouted back. “Why not?”

“Because one day I will be dead, and Camelot will need a king! I’m not going to let you jeopardize the future of this kingdom over some woman, no matter how close the two of you have grown.”

“She’s not some woman.” Arthur gritted out, “she saved my life _twice_. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“No, not when-”

“I can’t stand by and watch her die!” Arthur exploded.

“Then don’t look.” Uther said cuttingly. The harshness of his remarks made Arthur physically recoil from his father. “She won’t be the last to die on your behalf. You’re going to be king, it’s something you’ll have to get used to.”

“I can’t accept that-”

“You’re not going!” Uther snapped. Arthur felt his hand tensing into a fist.

“You can’t stop me-”

“Damn it, Arthur, that’s an end to it! You’re not leaving this castle tonight.” his father said, before walking away as if the matter was settled.

It appeared he would need to save Merlin by himself.

.

It was painfully easy to get his horse out, walk through the castle before almost trampling two gate guards, and just like that he was out.

He should have been happy, but all he could think of was Merlin, half dead because of him.

.

Arthur rode hard for the best part of a day, before giving his horse a rest once they came to a clearing in the forest of Balor.  He had been walking for around ten minutes when he heard a woman’s cry.

Although he knew it was impossible, he wondered if it was Merlin.

Abandoning the horse, as he knew it would stay where he left it, he unsheathed his sword and ran through the undergrowth, drawing closer to the woman’s sobs.

He came out into a clearing, where a woman was huddled on a log, her dress ripped, cuts covering her body and her feet bare and bloody. The woman was sobbing into her hands, her dark hair framing her face, and had her hair been straighter and longer it could have been Merlin, alive and well.

Alas, that was a fool’s fancy. The girl looked up, her eyes raw and red rimmed, and startled at the sight of him.

“Hello?” he said. She continued crying. “Are you alright?”

The girl screamed at the sight of something behind him, which roared in such a way Arthur’s heart started beating like a drum in his chest. He raised his sword towards the monster - a _cockatrice,_ he remembered Gaius saying.

“Stay back,” he told the woman, who probably didn’t need telling, as the monster lumbered towards them.

The cockatrice lunged for him, and Arthur rolled beneath it, remembering desperately that even a drop of venom meant death. He wouldn’t be able to get close enough to land a safe, controlled shot so he threw his sword through the air - it arced above his hand, and was guided by some kind god into the cockatrice’s stomach.

He let out a breath as the death throes of the creature stilled.

Arthur turned to see the woman backing away, naked fear on her face. “Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.” His eye caught a nasty long wound on her arm, and gestured to it, “Who did that to you?”

“My master,” the girl said, her voice wavering, “I ran away, but then I got lost - please, don’t leave me here.”

Arthur swallowed. He had a job to do, but he couldn’t abandon this girl. “I won’t,” he said, “I’m not going to.”

She looked at him with something akin to hope, “You can take me away from here?”

Arthur shook his head, “Not yet. There’s something I have to do first.”

When he pulled his sword out of the cockatrice’s stomach, something that smelled like rot permeated the air. He hoped it wasn’t a bad omen.

His horse trotted over from where he’d left it as the girl began talking, “Why have you come to the caves? Few do.”

“I’m looking for something.”

“What is it?” she asked, “I know this place, or as well as anyone can. I could help you.”

Despite the feeling of foreboding growing in his stomach at the girl’s questions, Arthur told her. If she could help, then he could get the cure back to Merlin all the quicker.

“A type of flower,” he said, “It only grows in the cave. It’s very rare.”

“The mortaeus flower?” she said, “I know where they are. I’ll show you.”

She walked off towards the caves. She sounded so confident, that Arthur followed her.

 _You’re not going to die,_ he thought of Merlin as he’d last seen her, white and unmoving. _Not for me._

.

They walked through the caves for what felt like hours, their torches the only source of light, but the girl never once looking confused even though every wall and passage looked the same to him.

Finally, they came to a dead end where the caves ended in an abyss, and on the other wall that was barely illuminated, Arthur saw roots running down the edges, and small yellow flowers growing there, although it should have been impossible that anything grew there at all.

“There they are,” the girl pointed. The way over was precarious, and he heard the sound of rock falls constantly. The drop was so far he couldn’t see the bottom.

One wrong step and he would die.

“Keep back from the edge,” he told the girl, “and don’t worry. We’ll be out of here soon.”

Arthur began along the protruding edge, and heard whispers echoing off the walls. It was just his imagination, he told himself. That and the fact the rock beneath his face was getting weaker, and weaker-

“-adom ne gerudtoosay, mana lunaydoonadonum-”

Arthur span round to see the girl speaking some sort of magical spell, getting louder and louder.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. The stone beneath his feet began to buckle and he lunged for the edge of the other side of the chasm just as the rock gave way. His torch fell to the bottom of the gorge, and he was hanging on by his fingertips.

“I expected so much more.” the woman said, in a harsh voice that sounded completely opposite to the scared, frightened tones she’d been using before.

“Who are you?” he demanded, sweat already beginning to collect on his brow from the effort of hanging onto the sheer wall.

She removed her hood, and smirked. “The last face you’ll ever see,” Something scuttled down the wall in the blackness. “Seems we have a visitor.” Arthur’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he saw a huge black spider. He scuttled away from it, and risked hanging on with just one hand to get his sword out and slice the gigantic arachnid in half.

“Very good,” the sorceress purred, “but he won’t be the last. I’ll let his friends finish you off, Arthur Pendragon.” In her mouth, his name sounded dirty. “It is not your destiny to die at my hand.”

He knew when she was gone, not that he was looking, but because the light faded. Soon, he was plunged into darkness.

“Who are you?” he screamed a final time. No answer came.

.

“Arthur... it’s too dark,” Merlin murmured in her sickbed, “it’s too dark... _floumfeogifum, feodirperme_.”

A bright blue light came from nowhere, and burned in the middle of her palm. Gaius’ eyes widened, and he shoved the blanket over the inexplicable light show in case Gwen came back and began asking questions.

.

A blue white orb came into being next to Arthur, and hovered silently.

“Come on then!” he yelled, “Finish me off!” But the orb just floated in the air. It felt different to the other sorcerer’s magic, Arthur realized. Warmer, gentler, kinder.

Arthur was many things but he was not one to ignore an advantage.

Using the light to know where the handholds were, he managed to pull himself on top of the ledge and to his feet. He scrambled for his sword as more of the spiders made their way towards him.

The blue orb rose with him, and the mortaeus flowers were illuminated. Making a split second decision, Arthur pulled himself up the wall, and managed to reach one of the yellow flowers with the tips of his fingers, and tucked it into his belt.

But the spiders were still coming.

Out of options, Arthur took a risk and got his gloves off so he could climb better, and followed the light up, up, up. He thought the cave would never end when suddenly he saw the blue sky above and found himself on the forest floor.

The orb was gone, but Arthur knew which way to go now.

He ran.

.

Arthur almost killed his horse with how hard he rode back to Camelot, praying that he was going to make it in time. Outside the gates, several knights stopped him.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, sire,” one of the knights he himself had trained told him, “you’re under arrest. By order of the king.”

.

“You deliberately disobeyed me,” his father ground out in the dungeons.

“Of course I did,” Arthur argued, “a woman’s life was at stake! Please, father, don’t punish her because of something I did.”

“Why do you care so much?” Uther demanded, “She is lowborn, meant for heirs and nothing else, and can never be your equal. She is little better than a servant.”

Arthur wanted to say _because I love her,_ but he wasn’t sure of that himself at that moment. But he felt different whenever he was with her, like everything would be alright, like she completely understood him and he completely understood her.

“She knew the danger,” Arthur says, “and she drank the poison anyway. She saved my life and now you ask why I care so much?” The king turned away. “There’s more,” Arthur told him, “there was a woman at the mountain, she knew I was looking for the mortaeus flower. I don’t think it was Bayard who tried to poison me.”

“Of course it was,” Uther insisted.

Arthur sighed, and reached inside his pocket, bringing out the precious yellow bloom that would save his mistress’ life. “Gaius knows what to do with it,” Arthur told him, and the king took it, “put me in the stocks for a week, a month even, I don’t care, but just make sure it gets to her. I’m begging you, father.”

Uther looked down at the flower, and before Arthur had the chance to move, crushed it in his fist.

 _“No_ -” the sound tore itself out of Arthur’s throat as he lunged for it, and redness overtook his vision.

“You have to learn there’s a right and a wrong way of doing things,” his father said, as if he hadn’t just as good as killed someone, “I’ll see you let out in a week. Then, you can find yourself another mistress.”

The cell door clanged shut behind him, and Uther let the crushed flower fall to the ground outside the cell.

 _I will never forgive you for this,_ Arthur promised his father’s retreating back, _never._

.

Arthur spent what felt like a short eternity with his hand reaching desperately through the bars for the flower, until his shoulder became dislocated and he gained the necessary couple of centimetres to grasp the flower and bring it back into the cell.

He cradled it gingerly, even though every motion was agony with the socket of his arm out of place - Merlin was dying, maybe already dead, and he had what was needed to save her, but no way to get it to her.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, footsteps came down. He looked up to see the door swinging open, and Gwen standing outside the door.

His heart leaped in his chest when he saw she was carrying at tray.

“Set it down over there,” Arthur commanded. Gwen did so. It was simply bread and cheese, and he knew it wasn’t his real meal even as he slipped the mortaeus flower in-between the slices of bread.

“Wait,” he said, as Gwen was about to leave, “I can’t eat this. It’s revolting. In fact, the state that it’s in, I don’t think it’s fit for anyone.” Gwen picked up the plate, with the mortaeus flower on, and curtsied. “Yes, sire,” she said, and left.

Once the guard was gone and Gwen was out of sight, Arthur allowed himself to smile.

.

Arthur ended up only being in the dungeons for a day.

He stood on the battlements watching Bayard’s party leave in peace - just about. Morgana stood beside him, but she wasn’t the person he wanted to see.

“Excuse me,” he said, and made his way for Gaius’ chambers.

Merlin was still there, wrapped up in several blankets and being fed soup when he entered. Her hair was greasy, her eyes puffy, and her skin covered in a rash, but to him she had never looked more beautiful.

“Still alive then,” he said, unable to stop himself smiling.

“Just about, thanks to you,” she replied in a hoarse voice, but smiled back.

“I’d do it for anyone,” he said, and her face fell a little, and he wasn’t sure why, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

It was brusquely worded, but Arthur couldn’t make himself hide how badly he wanted to talk to Merlin about all that had happened. “She will be fully recovered in three days,” Gaius said, “until then you will have to come to her.”

Arthur smiled down at his mistress, his Merlin: “I think that can be arranged.”

He began to walk away when Merlin called his name. He turned, to see her face strangely serious. “Thank you,” she said.

“You too,” Arthur told her, before leaving the room to give her rest.


	5. Lancelot

Three days later, Merlin was officially released by Gaius back to her daily life, who decided to take advantage of her good mood by sending her out into the forest to collect some herbs and vegetables for him.

So relieved was she to escape her sickbed, Merlin agreed instantly and practically flew to the forest. The job itself was not an enviable one - she had to get down on her hands and knees and rip different plants from the ground, some of which were prickly or rough on her hands, but to Merlin it was heaven.

She had been collecting for about an hour when a loud screeching noise came from behind her.

Merlin turned, and her eyes widened as she lay eyes on a huge, four legged creature with an eagle’s head and wings. Coming straight for her. She made the split second decision to abandon her basket full of Gaius’ herbs and ran for her life.

As she had not anticipated being chased by a huge hybrid monster, Merlin was not wearing sturdy shoes and she tripped over as one came off, and landed on the ground so hard all the air was knocked out of her.

The animal screamed at her again, and she tried to get to her feet to run but her legs failed her. The huge eagle-like thing was bearing down, and out of instinct Merlin closed her eyes tight shut as the beak came closer and closer-

She was not instantly devoured. Instead, she heard a warcry and opened her eyes to see a man with a sword swinging wildly at the beast.

For a moment, it looked as if he had caught the creature in the eye, but then the inexplicable happened - his sword shattered. Now without a weapon, the man turned round, and began running towards her, “Run! Run!” he urged, and Merlin didn’t need telling again, already sprinting away from the invulnerable creature. The man’s arm caught onto hers and together they vaulted over a log, and landed below it as the creature used its wings to fly into the air.

She and her saviour panted on the ground, adrenaline still rushing through their bodies.

“It’s gone.” she gasped, the first thing that she could think of to say, and then something even more obvious came out of her mouth: “You saved my life.”

The man nodded, as if dazed.

“I’m Merlin,” she introduced herself, holding out a soil covered hand. The man took it, and smiled.

“Lancelot,” her saviour replied, before his head lolled back against the log and his eyes closed. Merlin’s eyes widened as she saw a wound on his stomach that she had missed before.

“Shit.”

She checked there was nobody around and levitating him off the ground. It was a good half a mile to Camelot, and she didn’t feel particularly strong at that moment.

.

Merlin did manage the final hundred metres on her own, with the fully grown man’s lax body curled over her back, before one of the guards ran to her and took him from her.

“He needs a physician,” she said rapidly, leading the way to Gaius’ chambers. The guard made good time considering Lancelot was not a small man, and Merlin reminded herself to ask Arthur gave him a raise. His name was Garth, she thought, and he had helped her on several occasions.

Merlin opened the door to Gaius’ rooms, where the white haired physician was immersed in a book. Looking up, the old man’s eyes widened.

“Here, here,” he gestured to an empty table covered in a thin white cloth, and Garth laid him down as gently as he could.

Merlin thanked the guard as Gaius got to work, and had just closed the door when Gaius sighed heavily.

“What?” she said, turning.

“Nothing, nothing...” Gaius said, clearly lying through his teeth.

Merlin rolled her eyes and pulled up a chair. “Tell me.”

Gaius didn’t answer, instead picking up a roll of bandages and winding them around Lancelot’s chest, “The wound itself is superficial. He should make a full recovery, as long as he doesn’t exert himself too much.”

At his words, Lancelot shifted.

“What have I done now?” Merlin asked her great-uncle, “Other than having to leave behind the herbs you sent me out to get in order to run for my life, but if I was dead they wouldn’t have gotten to you anyway.”

“It’s just...” Gaius says, shaking his head, “only you could publically be the prince’s mistress and yet see nothing wrong with carrying an attractive, unconscious man in front of the entire court.”

He raised the eyebrow of doom.

“What was I to do?” Merlin asked, “He saved my life! There was a monster, and he fought it off-”

Gaius lowered his eyebrow, and Merlin let out a breath of relief.

“Tell me about this monster.” he said, and Merlin gratefully accepted the change in topic. She began talking about the winged beast, with it’s head of an eagle and body of a lion. She decided to try and put Gaius worries out of her mind - it wasn’t like Arthur would be bothered, anyway.

.

“You are saying,” Arthur said slowly, rubbing his temples, “that you were out in the woods _alone_ after being poisoned, doing a servant’s tasks, before you were attacked by what Gaius tells us is a griffin from your description and this- this _Lancelot_ just jumps in and saves your life, coming from nowhere?”

He said Lancelot’s name as if it were a curse, and Merlin barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

“Yes,” she said shortly, “that was about it.”

Arthur groans. “What am I to do with you?”

Merlin shrugged.

“You say he’s still unconscious? This... Lancelot?”

Merlin nodded, “He saved my life, Arthur. If he hadn’t been there... I would have died.”

Arthur nodded to himself, as if deciding something, “This griffin is causing havoc. My father and I will be going to assess the damage. In the meantime I will be assigning you a guard-”

“What?” Merlin protested, “No!”

“This isn’t debatable, Merlin!” Arthur snapped.

“Arthur, please-” she said.

“Well, I know you and Garth get along.” Arthur walked along as if he couldn’t hear her, slamming the door behind her.

 _Men,_ she huffed. They were absolutely impossible.

.

“You’re awake!” she exclaimed at the sight of Lancelot standing up, dressed and peering out the window. He turned toward her and smile, but the expression quickly died as his eyes latched onto something behind her.

Turning her head slightly, Merlin caught Garth’s thunderous look. She gritted her teeth and wondered exactly how Arthur had briefed him. She wasn’t entirely sure keeping other men away from her was the description of a bodyguard.

“Yes,” Lancelot said, collecting himself, “I’m fine. Thank you for bringing me.”

“There is nothing to thank,” Merlin told him and stepped up next to him, ignoring the strangled noise Garth made from behind her, and looked out of Gaius’ window. “You saved my life. The act of a true knight.”

A pink blush rose in Lancelot’s cheeks. “That is… I mean, my lady-”

“Oh please don’t,” Merlin told him, “I get that enough from the servants. Call me Merlin.”

“Merlin,” Lancelot tested out her name, and smiled. “I have much to thank you for. Ever since I was a boy I have dreamed of being a knight of Camelot, and I had no idea I was so close. If you hadn’t brought me here, I could have been in those woods for far longer. I have dreamed for so long of coming here… it is my life’s ambition. And now I am here it feels unreal. All of it.”

She bit her lip at the awestruck wonder in his voice, and smiled. He took it for hesitation and continued on, as if worrying she had taken something he said badly. She wasn’t sure how she could have, considering his ambitions were such noble and kind ones.

“I know what you must be thinking.” He said, stepping down from the ledge and the warmth of him disappearing from her side. “I expect too much. After all, who am I? They have their pick of the best, the greatest warriors of the land-”

“Lancelot,” Merlin interrupted him.

The man swallowed. “Yes, m’la- Merlin?”

“They are going to love you.” She said seriously.

Lancelot opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish for a few moments. “They are?” he said finally, as if he didn’t even dare to hope.

Merlin grinned at him. “I’ve seen you in action, remember? You could shame half of them with your right hand tied behind your back, you could even give Arthur a run for his money.”

Lancelot let out a disbelieving, nervous laugh but Merlin could see a hesitant kind of confidence growing.

“I hardly think so.”

“I do. In fact…” Merlin said, an idea coming to mind, “I’m going to go talk to him about it. Right now.”

“You know Arthur?” Lancelot said from behind her, awe and disbelief colouring his tone. She stopped and turned to see the man’s mouth ajar.

“Oh, yes.” Merlin grinned before sweeping out the door, Garth dogging her steps.

.

Merlin found Arthur at the training field, and she slipped into the crowd of onlookers and gestured for Garth do the same, Lancelot jogging behind them after he had shaken himself out of his daze that Merlin had the keys to the kingdom – or at least the keys to the Prince.

“Right, you upjumped dung beetle,” Arthur began, addressing a heavy set lordling with the expression of an ape, and Merlin snickered despite herself. “This is your final test. Pass this, and you are a knight of Camelot. Fail, and you’re no one.”

“He usually has better manners,” Merlin whispered to Lancelot, who could barely smile he looked so sick with nerves.

“You are to face the most feared of foes, the ultimate killing machine.”

“Oh no,” Merlin said to herself, “I told him this made him sound like a conceited prat-”

“You face me.”

Merlin groaned and Arthur was distracted to look towards the source of the noise. When he saw her, he smirked. “Your challenge is to face me in free combat, and last for one minute. You can try to defeat me, but you will fail. I will not be defeated in front of my lady.”

Then, everyone was looking at her and Merlin felt heat burning in her cheeks. Lancelot stiffened beside Merlin. “You’re his lady?” he hissed.

“Kind of. Not really.” Merlin deflected, but was saved as the almost-knight came in the land the first blow of the fight.

Merlin counted that the battle, if it could even be called that, lasted for four seconds.

Arthur walked over to her afterward, looking annoyed that the other man had fallen so quickly, but smirked at her raised eyebrow.

“What?” he teased, “No kiss for the victor?”

“That was pure humiliation for him.” Merlin told him, but placed a quick peck on his cheek anyway. Well, she’d meant to, but Arthur turned his face at the last moment so that it landed squarely on his lips, and put his gloved hands in her hair so that she couldn’t pull away and instead had to deepen the embrace.

When he finally let go and she could pull away – albeit reluctantly – Arthur was looking rather too pleased with himself and Lancelot was the colour of a tomato.

Merlin cleared her throat and stepped away.

“Grimond’s the third this month to fail,” Arthur told her grumpily, as if no one but them two were there, “how am I supposed to defend Camelot with rubbish like that?”

“That-” Merlin said smiling, “I can help with.”

“You.” Arthur said, with a raised eyebrow, “Really? Are you remembering the last training session we had?”

“No, I don’t mean me, I mean-” she said as she gestured to Lancelot whose cheeks still looked the colour of autumn apples, “Lancelot.”

“Lancelot.” Arthur said his name the same way he had said it before, as if he was smelling something unpleasant. Lancelot bowed low.

“Don’t do that,” Merlin said just loud enough for Arthur to hear, “he’ll get an inflated sense of his own importance. Anyway, Arthur, Lancelot saved my life. If that is not the act of a true knight, I don’t know what is.”

“You need more than the desire to do good to be a knight,” Arthur told Lancelot who looked stunned that he was actually being addressed by the Crown Prince of Camelot, “You need courage, fortitude, and discipline.”

“He’s got all that,” Merlin piped up for her friend when it seemed Lancelot had lost his speech.

“Yes, well, I’ll be the judge of that. Lancelot, do you happen to be of noble blood?”

Lancelot opened and closed his mouth before shaking his head, “No, m’lord.”

“Right,” Arthur said. “Twenty years ago, that would have been a problem. Now, you’re alright. The first code that said all knights must be of noble blood, now you just need a sponsor that is of noble blood. Do you have one of those?”

“He does.” Merlin said quickly, before she’d even thought about it. From behind her, Lancelot made a quiet, strangled sound that Arthur thankfully didn’t seem to have heard.

“Well then,” Arthur said, looking rather surprised. “Lancelot, come to the training ground tomorrow. Just bring your sponsor’s seal of nobility, and you may begin the initiation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Lancelot stammered out.

“Thanks, Arthur.” Merlin said, and Arthur gave her a smile.

“I’ll see you tonight?” he said in a low voice as she moved to walk away.

“Definitely.” She whispered back, and gave his hand a squeeze before walking away.

.

“Merlin,” Lancelot said from behind her as they hurried through the halls of Camelot, “I don’t have a sponsor of noble blood. I mean, are you my sponsor? You must be a noble woman-”

She stopped and turned to face him. “Garth,” she said to the guard, “could you give us some space?”

The guard nodded and backed off, but didn’t leave the hallway. Merlin sighed and supposed that would have to do.

“Lance,” she said, running a hand through her hair, “I’m not a noblewoman. Or a lady. Or a princess. Or anything. I’m just a valued servant.”

“But-” Lancelot’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, “You and the Prince. You have a guard. You were- he called you his lady.”

“That was him romanticizing things.” Merlin said, “I am his mistress.”

“His what?”

Merlin bit her lip. “I think we should sit down. It’s a long story.”

.

“So- you’re like a wife in the sense that your children will be royalty, but you aren’t because you don’t have status in the same way the prince’s wife will and there can be six of you? That’s-”

“Distasteful,” Merlin finished for him, “but necessary.”

“You…” Lancelot’s face was a mask of concern, “you deserve better than to just be his… his…”

“His whore?”

Lancelot recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “No, no! You’re not-”

“No,” Merlin said firmly, “I’m not. And if anyone here even hears you questioning these practices, they’ll question you. They’ll think you’re a foreigner, a spy sent to get information on Camelot and it’s workings.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened. “How do I-”

“Just act like its all normal.” Merlin told him, “Act like a perfect gentleman. Concentrate on your training. I know it sounds strange but… you get used to it.”

Lancelot nodded. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“You won’t have to,” Merlin said, “This is me repaying you for my life.”

“But Merlin, without you I’d have never known what to do, where to go-”

“Just forget about it, alright?” Merlin said as she stood, “We need to find you a sponsor now.”

Lancelot swallowed before getting to his feet as well. “Sponsor. Right. Got it.”

.

In the end, it isn’t actually that difficult to find Lancelot a sponsor.

“So, just to be clear,” Morgana said, smiling in such a way that made Lancelot swallow very hard, “this is annoying Arthur? And helping you out?”

“Lancelot is a great fighter, too,” Merlin said on her friend’s behalf, but Morgana made an impatient hand motion as if that had no meaning.

“But it will-”

“Yes,” Merlin said with a sigh, “Arthur practically had steam coming out of his ears.”

“Wonderful,” Morgana grinned, before handing Lancelot her seal of nobility. The man took it and held it like it was gold dust.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“No problem,” Morgana said, smiling with all her perfect white teeth, “Make me proud.”

.

“Lancelot,” Merlin asked when they got back to Gaius’ chambers which was where Lancelot was staying for the time being as the physician had a spare room, “why do you want to be a knight so badly?”

The man looked up from the seal which held Gorlois’ crest, with Morgana’s signature at the bottom and his own name written in the ward’s gorgeous script at the top. “When I was boy,” he began, his eyes flashing down to his ticket into knighthood once more before flicking up to meet Merlin’s eyes, “My village was attacked by raiders from the Northern plains. They were slaughtered where they stood – my father, my mother, everyone I knew. I alone escaped.” Merlin bit her lip, but stayed silent, seeing the man had more to say. “I vowed that day that never again would I be powerless in the face of tyranny. Ever since then, I’ve made sword craft my life. Every waking hour since that day, I’ve devoted towards the art of combat. And when I was ready… I set forth for Camelot. And now I’m here I… I am not so sure.”

“You are ready,” Merlin told him empathetically, “I feel it in my bones. And Lady Morgana thinks so too.”

“She wants to annoy the Prince,” Lancelot says, but he does laugh.

“Don’t we all?” Merlin quips, “Morgana is a good woman. She wouldn’t send you to be humiliated. She has faith.”

“I hope it is not misplaced,” Lancelot says, smiling, running his fingers over the signature.

.

“You’re late,” Arthur said the moment she stepped through the door.

“I got caught up,” Merlin said airily.

“Your hair’s undone.” Arthur said in the same tone, with his arms crossed and a childish pout on his face.

“It was hurting my head. I undid it as I came here.”

“If you’d been here earlier then I could have done it.”

“You’ll have plenty of other chances to undo my hair, Arthur-”

“You were with him, weren’t you?”

“Yes, actually-”

“I don’t like him.” Arthur says, before kicking off his shoes with such force they go flying and knock over a vase of flowers. Merlin flinches at the sound of shattering pottery.

“Poor George is going to have to clean that up,” Merlin says lightly, trying to mask her annoyance.

“How do we know he’s who he says he is? He could be anyone – he could have sent the beast to trick you into trusting him-”

“Arthur, please. You’re acting like a child.”

“I am not!” The prince bellowed.

“‘I don’t like him.’ God, Arthur, how old are you? He’s been nothing but courteous, respectful and selfless towards me and you. What do you dislike about him? What? What has he done to you?”

“He’s- I don’t trust him or his intentions.”

“His intentions? What are you, my father? Anyway, I’m with you-”

“Not by choice though, you’ve made that very clear-”

“God, Arthur, just shut up!” Merlin screamed.

And miraculously, he did.

“I am with you.” She ground out, “Lancelot is my friend, nothing more. I owe him a debt because whether you like it or not he saved my life. If he hadn’t been there, then I would have died. And if you’re too childish to accept I can have friends and spend time with men other than you then you can just get yourself another mistress. In fact, get yourself _five.”_

“Merlin-”

“Save it.” She spat, and stormed out of the room, her unbound hair beating against her back as she swept tears out of her eyes.

.

“Oh my god,” Merlin breathed as she came into Gaius’ chambers the next day to see Lancelot holding a steak over a black eye, his clothes covered in mud and straw in his hair, “what happened to you?”

Lancelot grimaced, “Arthur really doesn’t like me.”

“He hit you?!”

“He said I had slow reactions. On a battlefield I’d be dead. He said I wasn’t ready so-”

Lancelot suddenly cut himself off.

“So?” Merlin said, ice cold fury beginning to build in her chest.

“I’m cleaning the stables.” Lancelot mumbled.

“That bastard.” She hissed, before turning around and stomping off the way she came.

.

“You are a petty, shallow, cruel man-” She said, storming into Arthur’s bedchambers.

Said petty, shallow, cruel man was lounging on his bed, apparently reading. Apparently, because he was holding the book upside down.

“Oh?” Arthur said, turning a page backwards. “How so?”

“Don’t give that.” She hissed, incensed. “You know what you’ve done.”

“He wasn’t ready,” Arthur said pompously.

Merlin stalked over, and in one movement ripped his book from his hand and threw it at the wall.

“Look at me.” She gritted out, fury flashing in her blue eyes. “How dare you?”

“How dare I?” Arthur yelled, suddenly. Merlin took a step back. “How dare he! How dare he come and upset my castle? How dare he come and steal you away? How dare you come in here and treat me as the guilty party?”

“You hit him as he was bowing to you, you absolute prick!” Merlin screamed right back, “His dream is to be a knight and you- you _ruin_ it because you’re jealous! What have you to be jealous of? He’s a commoner, you’re a prince!”

“You!” Arthur exploded, and without warning latched his hands around her waist and picked her up. Merlin opened her mouth to scream but he just turned around and seated her firmly on the bed so he was boxing her in and she couldn’t stand back up to scream in his face immediately.

“Me?” Merlin spits, “Me? What am I, some prize to be passed around?”

“No!” Arthur says, “No! You are- you are brave, and wonderful, and selfless, but I wish you weren’t sometimes because- because I don’t want to be second in your eyes to another man, I _can’t_ , I can’t bear it-”

“You have never been second in my affections.” Merlin cuts him off, lip quivering with the force of her sudden emotion. She won’t cry. She won’t cry. “Never.”

Arthur swallows, before sinking down onto his knees before her as salty tears begin falling down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said, screwing his mouth up like a bashful child would, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I doubted you. I’m sorry I was jealous. I’m sorry I was a bully when I swore I wouldn’t be. I’m sorry.”

Merlin lets out a sigh, before opening her arms. “Come here,” she murmurs tiredly, and together they fall into an embrace.

“I forgive you,” she says to his hair as she strokes it, “but don’t ever do it again.”

“I won’t,” Arthur says, somehow sounding remorseful even as his hand begins creeping under her skirts and up her thigh.

_“Really?”_

“It has been two days.” Arthur says with a shrug.

.

Merlin woke up to bright sunlight, an empty bed and the emergency bells tolling.

“Are you kidding me?” she groaned grumpily as she heaved her way out of Arthur’s bed and slowly towards her abandoned dress from the night before.

No sooner had she pulled it on did a knock on the door come. “My lady?” George’s nervous voice came from the other side of the thick wood. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, George,” Merlin said tiredly as she tied her sash, “I have survived getting out of bed.”

“The King asks that everyone stays inside the castle until the threat has been dealt with.”

“Where’s Arthur?” she called as George’s footsteps went to turn away. The footsteps stopped.

“His Royal Highness left early, my lady,” George said, “He is thought to be riding to face the threat.”

 _Prat,_ Merlin thought fondly and opened the door to see George’s bewildered face staring back at her.

“I need some air,” she said, before hurrying down the corridor.

.

Merlin had meant to get to Arthur, but instead got caught up by helping the procession of people from outlying villages with various injuries and scrapes into the castle. Lancelot was already hard at work, and Merlin quickly joined him.

“What happened?” she asked as they went back out for more refugees.

“Their villages were attacked by a winged monster,” Lancelot said gravely, dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion.

She had just half-carried a frail old woman into the castle when she heard a party of riders approaching, their horse’s shoes clopping against the cobblestones.

Sure enough, Arthur came through the gate, his face grave. “Arthur!” she called out.

The prince turned and met her eye, but didn’t smile.

.

“The beast is heading South,” Arthur told her, “it first hit Greenswood and then Willowdale. It’s heading towards the mouth of the valley. To Camelot.”

Merlin squeezed his hand to try and give him some encouragement, but his attempt at a smile ended up as a pained grimace.

“I don’t think the knights I have now can fight this thing,” Arthur said wearily, “We are too few. The sickness cost us seven men, and we have gained no more since. And from what Gaius says its hide is impenetrable to almost everything.”

“I thought the whole point of this sponsorship law was for there to be more knights,” Merlin questioned, “Yet barely any nobles sponsor anyone anymore.”

“They’re snobs,” Arthur said shortly, “and too afraid that they’ll be embarrassed by the man they sponsor should they fail.”

“Arthur, have you ever sponsored anyone?” Merlin asked.

“Not yet,” the Prince said shortly.

“Maybe you should get on that,” Merlin said, “Perhaps it would help.”

“It’s not like anyone can be trained up from scratch to help us fight the beast at this point,” Arthur complained.

“Not from scratch, no,” Merlin said, “But some of your trainees, like Lancelot-”

“Lancelot is now in basic training.” Arthur said, as if it was of little consequence.

Merlin sat up straight and stared at him. “When did this happen?”

“This morning.”

Merlin opened and closed her mouth a bit more before grinning, “Who are you, and what have you done with Arthur Pendragon? Wait, no, I don’t care. I like you better.”

“Charming.” Arthur grumbled, but he smiled when she kissed him.

.

After two days, there was no more time to train Lancelot properly – he was top of his class, Arthur told her grudgingly, and he wanted at least two more men to fight the griffin with, and yet only a knight could serve.

“I won’t go easy on him,” Arthur warned her as she helped him on with his mail – something that she had picked up from watching George do it, and finding she liked helping so it slowly became her duty instead of the manservant’s.

“He’d be offended if you did,” Merlin told him.

.

“Well,” Arthur began, “here we are. Your final challenge. Succeed and you join the elite. Fail and your journey ends here. Lancelot du Lac, sponsored by Morgana le Fay, your time starts now.”

The timekeeper had barely turned over the sand clock when the swords met for the first time, the sound of steel meeting steel cutting through the morning air. They seemed evenly matched Lancelot made the first outright attack, his wide sweep missing Arthur’s head by centimetres. Gwen squeezed Merlin’s wrist, but Merlin couldn’t make herself squeeze back. Too much was at stake.

Arthur took advantage of Lancelot’s undefended front by swinging at his midriff, and Lancelot barely managed to hold the attack off in time. Hold it off he did, however, and Merlin felt as if the fight was lasting for years as the prince and the hopeful recruit fought. Finally, Arthur struck out at Lancelot’s helmet with his mailed fist, sending the other man tumbling to the ground.

“Do you think he’s alright?” Gwen whispered worriedly. Merlin nodded absently in reply as Lance struggled to his feet.

“Shame.” Arthur says as he plunges his sword into the mossy ground, before going to pull Lancelot’s flag from his belt.

But then, the motionless Lancelot suddenly sprung up, catching Arthur unawares. Merlin felt herself release a gasp at the speed of Lance’s movements. It happened so quickly that had Merlin not been paying sharp attention, she would have missed Lance’s foot kicking Arthur’s legs from under him. In another second, Lance was standing, his sword drawn and pointed at Arthur’s vulnerable throat.

Merlin forced herself not to laugh at the look of shock in Arthur’s blue eyes.

“Do you submit, sire?”

Suddenly, a look of fury passed over Arthur’s face and Merlin felt her heart drop to her stomach as the prince clambered to his feet and the guards restrained Lancelot, his sword falling to the ground.

 _You promised me,_ Merlin screams mentally at Arthur, whose face shows only rage as he circles his incapacitated opponent. But, of course, Arthur doesn’t hear her.

“On your knees!” Arthur demands, rage in his barking tone. Merlin goes to step forward but Garth’s arm blocks her path. She meets his gaze, aware that her face must be as black as a thundercloud, but the guard doesn’t waver.

Lancelot’s knee caps crack as he is forced down by the guards, but when he looks at Arthur, there is no fear in his eyes.

“I charge thee,” Arthur’s voice grits out, and Merlin feels her mouth fly open in shock, “Sir Lancelot of Camelot, to protect the weak, guard the innocent and defend your king and country. Will you swear?”

“I will.” Lancelot’s voice cracks on the words, and for the first time Merlin sees the tears in his eyes.

“Then arise, Sir Lancelot,” Arthur tells him, and nods the guards away, “a knight of Camelot.”

.

At the official ceremony in the hall, Merlin whispers to Arthur when the cheering begins so nobody can hear.

“I thought you were going to do something else entirely, for a moment.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur scoffs, “I was just playing with him.”

“ _Were_ you?” Merlin teases. “Either way, Morgana seems pleased with her champion, More nobles are said to be looking into sponsorships, it appears to have ended happily for all involved.”

“Well… he is going to be in the castle all the time now.” Arthur observed grumpily, “So not quite for everyone.”

“Yes,” Merlin says, directing his gaze to Gwen who was staring at the newly dubbed Ser Lancelot with stars in her eyes, and the knight was looking at the serving maid with a similar expression, “for everyone.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Arthur said, and Merlin couldn’t contain her laugh at the dumbfounded expression on his face.

.

“Here comes trouble,” Arthur told Lancelot as Gwen and Lady Morgana approached. “Your selfless sponsor. Say, do you think her beautiful?”

“The- the Lady Morgana?”

“Either.”

“They- they are both very beautiful Sire.”

Arthur didn’t miss how his eyes tracked Gwen however, and smiled. Maybe things would be alright for once.

Privately, however, he decided that neither held a candle to his mistress as she entered the hall, a vision in burnt saffron.

.

“You know what?” Merlin says to Gwen over her goblet of summerwine, “I think our Sir Lancelot might have eyes for you, Gwen.”

The maid’s cheek’s immediately turned the colour of cherries at Merlin’s words. “Don’t be silly!” she hissed, but Merlin noticed she looked quite pleased. Mentally, she reminded herself to give Lancelot a push in the right direction when she had the chance.

“I’m not being silly. The man’s gaze hasn’t strayed from you all night.”

“All-” Gwen opened her mouth, and turned to check Merlin’s claim. Her eyes locked with Lancelot’s, and she squeaked a little. “Oh.”

“Mmhm.” Merlin hummed, feeling very proud of herself. “Anyway, just for the sake of fun, if you had to, Arthur or Lancelot?”

_“Merlin!”_

.

Merlin wakes up the next morning in Arthur’s bed with a pounding head and no idea of how she got there. Reaching out, she hit some warm skin and poked it.

“-op it.” Arthur’s voice sluggishly grumbled.

Determinedly, Merlin continued.

“Mean.” He said next, and before Merlin knew what was happening one of his arms came over her, looped around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

Merlin squawked wordlessly, and wriggled in his firm hold. “Let go you- you big bully you-”

“Make me, make me-” Arthur taunted, as he began tickling her sides.

“O- Arthu-ur! Stop, sto-op, stop!”

“I won’t-”

But this time, he wasn’t cut off by her giddy screams but instead by the tolling of the emergency bell. Both of them froze on the first chime, but by the second they were both sitting upright in bed.

“The griffin.” They said together, looking at one another.

By the third chime, they were out of bed and pulling on their clothes.

By the fourth the room was empty.

.

An hour later, the beast is driven off by fire, by pure luck, and Merlin is sitting in the council chamber with a pounding hangover. Lance sits on her left and Arthur on her right, Gaius sitting next to Uther.

“You said that your knights were the best in the realm,” Uther tells his son, “and you have proved that today.”

“All I know is that it is still out there.”

“Let’s not wait for it.” The king says suddenly, and Merlin clenches her teeth together, so hard that her jaw begins to ache. “The kingdom has been menaced by this creature for too long. We finish this now, while the beast is weakened.”

“Sire, if I may.” Gaius begins, “A griffin is a creature of magic. It is born of magic and can only be killed by magic. Swords would do nothing against it.”

“You are mistaken.” Uther said sharply. “It’s a creature of flesh and blood like any other. Arthur proved that today.”

“I’m not so sure, father,” Arthur says, and Merlin’s neck makes a cracking sound she turns to look at him so fast. Never had she thought she’d see the day that Arthur questioned his father’s judgement, especially so soon after being praised by him. “I think there may be some truth in what he says.”

“What truth?” Uther gritted out.

“The griffin was not harmed,” Arthur explained, “it left because of the flames. Our weapons were useless against it, and Lancelot reports the same from when he faced the creature.”

“Does he?” Uther’s gaze sharpened on the new knight beside Merlin, and Lancelot froze and withered beneath the king’s gaze.

Lancelot opened his mouth, and cleared his throat. “Yes, sire. The- the blade shattered.”

“I saw it too. It wasn’t natural.” Merlin cut in, and received a thankful smile from Lancelot for her trouble.

“It was poorly made.” Uther ruled. “The steel from Camelot’s forges is made of sterner stuff. The beast has tasted it once, and it’s next time will be it’s last. Arthur, when will the knights be ready to ride again?”

Arthur stifled a sigh, but answered dutifully “An hour. Maybe two.”

“Good,” Uther said as he rose, “we finish this tonight.”

.

Gaius’ withered hand catches her wrist as they move out of the assembly hall, and with a stern glint in his eye he tells her not to react. They move away from the crowd seamlessly, down into the depths of the castle until they reach a passageway that was completely deserted.

The old physician turns, and looks at her with that harsh gaze of his. “I meant it, Merlin. Only magic can kill the beast.”

Merlin purses her lips. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. If Arthur rides out against the griffin, I am telling you that he will die.” At those words, Merlin staggers back as if Gaius had struck her.

“Then- then he must be stopped. Uther has to listen to you, you’re his advisor-”

“Uther is blind when it comes to magic. You know this, as well as I. And yet… magic is our only hope.”

“You mean-”

“This is your destiny, Merlin.” The weight behind the words fall onto her shoulders. “This is what your magic is meant for.”

“I can’t even go, Gaius, I’m not a knight. And you saw that thing yourself – I’m not strong enough to face it, all I can do are- are party tricks! This is madness, there has to be another way. If I try, then Arthur will probably die from my sheer stupidity-”

“And if you don’t, Arthur will definitely die. This is the only way.”

The ultimatum hangs in the air between them, and Merlin steps away from Gaius to breathe harshly in the dark, dank hallway. “Fuck,” she whispers to herself, before willing the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes back down. She spins on her heel to face her uncle. “Do you even care what happens to me?” she spits, “Go do this, Merlin. Oh, just do that, Merlin. Go kill the griffin, Merlin. I’m just a girl, not a sorceress or a druid or a priestess, I can’t do this-”

“You are so much more than just a girl.” Gaius tells her softly, “You are Emrys. You are Merlin. You are the only thing I care about in this world. I would give my life for you without a thought, and would die happily. But for what? I cannot save Arthur. It is not my destiny.”

“I’m sorry.” Merlin says, leaning against the cool stone wall, utter exhaustion suddenly flooding through her.

“I don’t know what else I can say,” the physician tells her, and tugs at his sleeves.

“I do.” Merlin says, and with effort pushes herself off the wall. “We have two hours to find out how to kill this thing. So we better get started.”

.

A whole fifty minutes later, Gaius exclaimed at a passage in the tome he was currently bent over. “There!”

Merlin peered over his shoulder, and her eyes widened at the complicated spellwork contained in the page. _Bregdananweauldgafeluec_. The only thing that was of any comfort was the footnote at the bottom which read: _guaranteed to kill the invulnerable._

“You must do this for Arthur.” Gaius tells her, as if reading her mind, before passing the book over. The weight of it made Merlin stagger.

“I’ve never cast an enchantment this powerful before.” She said, worriedly.

“Nothing less will kill it.” Gaius said with certainty, before putting a rusting dagger in her free hand. “Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said with limited optimism, “You have a whole hour.”

.

“I know you’re trying,” Gaius told her, after almost an hour without luck, “Don’t worry.”

“I’m failing,” Merlin grumbled, “and if I fail then Arthur dies.” She took a breath, and was about to begin the incantation again, when the door slammed open.

Gwen stood in the doorway, out of breath. “They’re going!” she cried, loose strands of hair falling about her face, “Arthur and the knights! They’re going to face the Griffin!”

“Oh, that-” Merlin began, before jumping up from the stool she was perched on and rushing out the door, oblivious to Gaius’ shouts, rusty dagger still clutched in her hand. Garth was going to get in so much trouble, Merlin realized as she saddled up her horse, but she’d make it up to him.

.

The horse Merlin steals doesn’t like her much.

The mare is stubborn and not as fast as other stallions that the knights had taken, but she can run when Merlin whispers to her that if she goes as fast as she possibly can, she’ll give her all the sugar and oats she wants.

Despite this, Merlin still gets there too late.

She sees Arthur’s prone body in slow motion, and her heart starts pumping in her ears as she runs over to him. “Don’t be dead,” she begs him, as she fumbles for a pulse. “Please, please don’t be dead.”

As if the gods heard her prayer, she feels a throb of life beneath her fingers.

“Merlin!”

The shout yanks her out of the world she had shut herself into, and she raises her head to see the last man standing – Lancelot. He has lost his horse, and walks with a limp, but the beast doesn’t seem to see either him or her as a threat. Instead, it is hissing at them from a distance, ruffling its feathers in anger at being attacked. Body parts are strewn around it, and blood drips from its curved beak.

“Lance!” she says, in a low voice in the hope the griffin doesn’t hear, “Don’t go near it!”

“What are you doing here?” he questions at the same moment in a hiss.

“I’m saving your idiot lives!” Merlin snaps.

“Merlin, you have to go back home-”

“Shut up!” she growls, “Shut up and come here!” She gestured at him violently, and haltingly, Lancelot did so.  One of the griffin’s beady, black eyes followed him, but it didn’t make a move to attack. “Do you have a lance?” she hissed at him.

“Mine broke, and so did-”

“Fine, fine. A sword?”

“All shattered. Merlin-”

“Shh.” She made the noise impatiently. “How good is your aim?”

“P-passable.”

“Right.” She said, and took a deep breath. She couldn’t do this without him, which meant she had to trust him. She liked Lance, she did, but she had only known him a few days. If he told anyone, then it would get back to Uther. If it got back to Uther, she was dead.

As if it could read her morbid thoughts, the griffin stretched it’s body, and after rolling it’s neck a few times, began to stalk towards them.

If she didn’t trust Lance, then she was dead now. They all were.

“Take this,” she said, shoving the rusty dagger into his hand. Lance was frozen as the beast strutted towards them.

“Merlin, we have to run-”

“You run and I’ll kill you myself.” She growls, before concentrating on the knife in Lancelot’s trembling hand. “ _Bregdan anweauld gafeluec.”_

Nothing happened, other than Lance freezing as he heard the magical words coming from her mouth. Merlin took a deep, shaking breath.

The griffin was coming closer, and Merlin thought she could smell it’s breath as it salivated over such an easy meal. “ _Bregan anweauld gafeluec_!” Nothing.

“Merlin-” Lance said, his voice quavering.

“ _BREGDAN ANWEAULD GAFELUEC!_ ” Merlin screamed in desperation as she felt the heat of the griffin’s breath on her neck. The blade suddenly burned with blue fire that gave off no heat. _“Now!”_

Before she even finished the word the dagger was spinning through the air and the griffin stumbled back, wailing terribly. Lance’s aim had been true – he had struck it right through the heart.

For a moment they both stood there, motionless, watching the griffin’s final death throes before the great creature finally ceased moving.

“Good shot,” Merlin said faintly as her stomach turned.

“Good spell.” Lance countered, before they both lapsed into another bout of silence.

Merlin opens her mouth, about to question him about what he’ll do – if he’ll tell, if he’ll stay quiet, if he’ll give her the chance to run first before he reveals her secret. But all the words get stuck on her tongue, and before Lance can say something in kind, Arthur’s prone form groans.

Without thinking, Merlin runs to him, kneeling down on the stones to help him up. The prince’s arm is twisted oddly, and there’s a nasty scrape on his forehead, but his eyes focus on her own almost immediately.

“Merlin?” he says, disbelief echoing in his tone. “What are you doing-”

“The griffin is dead.”  She tells him, “I got here just in time to see Lancelot kill it.”

At that, Arthur sits up straight away, even as he clutches at his head, and stares at the griffin’s corpse. “You did it,” he says to Lancelot, “you killed it!”

“Sire, I-”  Lancelot begins, and Merlin feels all the blood rush from her face before Arthur cuts him off.

“No false modesty, sir,” Arthur says, struggling to his feet, Merlin having to pull him up, “You’ve saved us!”

For once, Merlin has no problem at all with fading into the background as the other survivors stir, and letting Lancelot bask in the moment with a huge, dopey grin on his face.

.

“Sir Lancelot,” Uther proclaims, “for your services to the kingdom and your valour in the field, I do bequeath to you your own noble seal and keep in Camelot. May you and your sons keep this honour from this day until the end of time. Rise, a lord in your own right.”

Lancelot has a frozen, shell-shocked expression on his face, and Merlin forces herself to look pleased for him as she claps. And she would be, had he not had the knowledge to have her executed at any moment.

Beside her, Arthur beams at his newest recruit, whilst his elbow brushes hers and sends a spark of warmth through her body.

Merlin can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll have with him before it all comes crumbling down.

.

Merlin does not expect to physically run into Lancelot considering all she has been doing to avoid him. They both go down like a ton of bricks, and from behind her Garth lets out an exclamation, before leaning down to pull her to her feet as Lancelot hops up himself.

“Merlin!” he says, “Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“Oh?” she says, the smile on her face as false as her indifference.

“Garth, would it be alright if me and Merlin had a moment?”

Merlin turns, with alarm in her eyes warning Garth is to under no circumstances leave her alone with Lancelot. But, either Garth doesn’t get her meaning or decides that annoying a lord is far more dangerous than annoying her, because he bows before turning around and closing the door behind him.

“Congratulations on your lordship.” Merlin says, hollowly. “You deserve it for killing the griffin.”

“You and I both know that I did not kill the griffin.” Lancelot says fiercely. “If you hadn’t come, I would have died. We all would have.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Lance says, “I heard you, Merlin. You supplied the weapon. You supplied the ma-”

Merlin slaps a hand over Lance’s mouth. “Not so loud!”

Lance swats her hand  away as if she is an annoying fly to bat away. “Nobody is here, Merlin. Nobody but me and you.”

“Already one person too many.” She says, and to her horror feels tears creeping up in her eyes.

“Merlin,” he says gently, “your secret is safe with me.”

Merlin feels her mouth open and close but no sound escapes her.

“I won’t tell a living soul.” He says, smiling, and reaches over to give her hand a squeeze.

Of course that is the moment that the door slams open. They both look over to the flood of light, their hands intertwined before them and Merlin is sure the look on her face must be guilty, going by the stormy expression on Arthur’s face.

.

They head back to Arthur’s chambers in stiff, uncomfortable silence. Merlin half feels like turning on her heel and running, running all the way back home to Ealdor and her mother.

But that is not the girl Merlin is. She can’t run away from a prince, or a palace, or a problem, or a kingdom.

Never again.

The heavy, oak door of Arthur’s chamber closes behind them both and sounds to Merlin’s ears like the grinding shut of a tomb. She walks over to the window and looks out of the thin glass, her fingers like hooks on the window sill.

Out of the corner of her eye, Merlin sees Arthur lean his head back against the door, slowly. There is exhaustion in the action that hurts her deep inside somehow, knowing she caused it.

“I will send Lancelot to his new castle in the morning.” Arthur says in a monotone voice, “The villagers have been neglected too long. You will go with him. If you want.”

Merlin swallows, hard. “Why would I want to go with him?”

Arthur’s laugh is bitter and harsh and hateful. “Why? Why not? He saved your life. He is just like you. He can give you children. He has no kingdom. He can wed you without any fuss, and you will never be mistaken for a whore. He can give you... everything I cannot.”

Merlin considers punching the wall to channel her anger. She feels her magic bucking, and a cart she had been concentrating on particularly hard suddenly tips to the side as if nudged by an invisible wind. All the people in the courtyard flurry and run and stare, but they don’t seem real to her.

“He can’t give me love.” Merlin tells him. “He can give me friendship, but that is all. And it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Becuase he holds a torch for Gwen, not me, and I...”

“You?” Arthur’s voice is so vulnerable and small, and if Merlin hadn’t seen his lips move in the corner of her eye she wouldn’t have believed that he’d been the one o say it.

“There’s this prince. Well, I say prince.” She laughs but it does nothing to decrease the tension in the room, or the feeling of Arthur’s eyes burning on her back. “He’s more of a prat than a prince. And I keep on having to save his sorry life all the time, and it’s getting very tiresome, but I keep on doing it anyway. Because, the problem is, I really quite like him. Well, I say like. I mean... this prince...”

“Merlin-”

“I love you, Arthur.”

Merlin takes a harsh breath as Arthur crosses the room in large steps and wraps his arms around her middle. “Tell me that was nothing. Tell me you-”

“I don’t love him,” Merlin says, “I couldn’t. Not like I love you. I love you.”

“I love you.” Arthur says, pressing a harsh kiss to her temple, “I’m sorry, for all of this. I love you so much. More than anything. I love you.”

Merlin allows her eyes to close in the warmth of his embrace, and lets out a breath. “Arthur?” she says, “Know I love you. Whatever. I love you.”

“I love you too. God, I love you.”


	6. A Remedy To Cure All Ills

A few days later, Merlin and Arthur were interrupted for what felt by the millionth time by George’s sharp, insistent knock on the chamber door.

“Somebody had better be dying,” Arthur grumbled from between Merlin’s legs before grumpily pushing himself up and pulling on a tunic before opening the door a crack fiercely.

“What?” he snapped to the invisible servant that she knew would be stuttering an explanation for the interruption. Then, Arthur would more often than not slam the door in his face muttering darkly and crawl back into bed with a pout on his face that Merlin would have to kiss away.

As he turned back and grabbed for his trousers, Merlin’s heart sank as she realized this was not one of those times.

She sat up a bit higher, having to push her hair out of her face as she did so. “What’s wrong?”

“Morgana’s been taken ill.” Arthur said shortly. “It’s said to be serious.”

.

They both arrived in Morgana’s chamber  after a rushed dressing, the king and Gaius having already arrived and Gwen pacing outside in tears. “She was fine last night!” she told them tearfully, “She was fine!”

“Her body seems to have simply stopped working,” Gaius was saying as they entered.

“Can you fix it?” The king asked from her beside, looking incredibly tired. Merlin wondered how long he had been up. Silently, Arthur took his place by the ward’s beside, and threaded his fingers through her cold ones. Merlin stood at the side, feeling as if she did not belong in the picture. But, after a moment, Arthur beckoned her to his side and she busied herself with changing the towels from Morgana’s head.

“I will do all I can.” Gaius said, “Sire, try not to worry. I’m sure there is a simple explanation.”

.

Two days later, a lot of fresh towels, Arthur speaking in monosybillac answers and Gwen having to be sent home she was so distraught, they were no closer to a cure, or even a cause.

“Why is she like this?” Uther demanded, anxiety in every line of his face. “You don’t have an answer, do you?” Gaius turned to look at the king with an expression of insult, “Nothing you’ve tried so far has worked.” Uther continued, either oblivious or uncaring. “It’s been two days. What do you know? Anything?”

“I fear she may have some sort of inflammation of the brain.” Gaius told the king, an edge to his tone that nobody dared point out.

“What could have caused such a thing?”

“An infection, possibly.” Gaius put forward. Merlin thought of all his books that they’d been bent over for days and knew that was not the most possible cause. The most possible cause was that it was genetic, and just went off one day, like a bomb. And Morgana was gone, and nothing more than a shell remained.

Thinking that, Merlin knew why Gaius hadn’t told either Uther or Arthur about the most possible cause of the illness.

“Rest assured, sire, I will do everything in my power to cure her-”

“I cannot rest assured.” Uther hissed, “Not when she may die before my very eyes. No, we must search outside the castle for any cures. I will give my soldiers the order to find anyone who has heard of such a thing-”

“Sire,” Merlin said before she had even realized she was speaking. Uther’s hard grey eyes were on her for a moment, and beside her Arthur stiffened but didn’t speak. “If I may,” she continued, “such things are rare and anyone could pose as a physician to try and invade the walls. I believe that Gaius will find a cure before looking to outside sources.”

Uther pursed his lips, and Merlin tensed for the metaphorical axe to fall.

“Fine.” He snapped. “But I need results, Gaius. I won’t have her die on me.”

.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Gaius said wearily once Uther left the room in a huff and Arthur was called away for parade. “She’s all but dead, Merlin. Perhaps fresh eyes could save her.”

“No,” Merlin said stubbornly as she mopped fiercly at Morgana’s fiery brow, “she’s not going to die, and you know as well as I do that we’ve torn every healing tome apart. You’re going to cure her, because nobody else has that knowledge.”

“Just... ready yourself.” The physician said tiredly. “Go make yourself useful and get me some fresh rosemary. And yarrow.” He added when she looked about to protest.

Merlin gritted her teeth and left.

Morgana was not going to die. Not like this.

.

Merlin comes back from collecting herbs as quickly as she dares, considering she’d simply summoned what she’d needed into her hand as soon as she got into the woods in order to think about what to do. Morgana couldn’t be cured by magic, not entirely: Merlin had learnt her lesson with Gwen’s father. But she could perhaps speed up the healing process, use some elderflower and dock leaves with some cherryblossom...?

It was worth a shot, she decided, as she jogged back to the castle. She’d just have to find a moment when Gaius wasn’t working – a harder thing that it sounded.

.

“It’s going to be alright. It is. I know it is. She’s going to be absolutely fine.” Merlin told herself as much as she told Arthur that night.

“Merlin?” Arthur said from his desk where he was hunched over some papers that they both knew he wasn’t reading.

“Hmm?”

“You’re making me anxious.”

“You’re already anxious.”

“Just- stop.”

Merlin sat down agressively on the bed, and began rapping a rhythm on the bedpost after a few minutes. Arthur stood up sharply, the chair grinding against the floor, and he began to pace.

“She’ll be fine.” Merlin said again. Arthur didn’t reply.

.

The knock at the door comes at three in the morning. Neither Merlin nor Arthur have slept a wink, and Merlin is at the door before she even realizes how desperate she is for news.

Merlin recognises the boy’s face – he was one of the kitchen boys who had been temporarily given over to Gaius in order to help him with the search for a cure. His eyes are wide and have heavy bags beneath them – he looks like hell, but Merlin knows she probably looks worse.

“M’lord, m’lady,” he says, “the king requires the prince’s presence. In the Lady Morgana’s chambers. He says it’s urgent.” The boy had barely finished speaking when Arthur shoved past him, barefoot.

“He’s just worried.” Merlin said, apologizing for him as the prince’s silhouette disappeared down the hallway. The boy grimaced before running after Arthur.

Merlin closed the door slowly, before mechanically lying down on the bed. Exhaustion filled her entire body. She was too late. Too optimistic. Too stupid.

Too tired.

When Merlin woke up from a sleep she hadn’t realized she had slipped into, the room was cold and bright. She felt like an unusually long time had passed since she was last awake, but she felt no more refreshed than she had when she’d fallen asleep. A warm thumb stroked the back of her hand, and she looked up into Arthur’s blue eyes.

“Morgana?” she asked, pushing herself up on her elbows, whilst wincing at how her voice cracked from disuse.

Arthur took a breath, before ducking down to place a kiss on her forehead, feather light. When she saw his eyes again, they were brimming with tears. “It’s a miracle, Merlin.”

.

Merlin and Arthur reached the assembly hall just in time to see the elusive saviour Edwin Muirden kneel before the king. From the back he did not look like a man who could cure all ills, but very few did from the back. Merlin had to go on her tiptoes to see the top of his wavy head of hair, but she heard his voice well enough.

“Name your reward.” Uther said. Merlin half smiled at the deja-vu that it brought, of when he had said the exact same thing to her. She wondered if Muirden knew the king already knew what he wanted from him, as he had known what he had wanted from her before he had even said the words.

“I desire nothing more than the good health of my patient, sire.” The man’s voice had a strange accent, but it was strong and slightly nasal. He sounded like Merlin would imagine a man of learning would.

“There must be _something_ I can do for you.”

“No, sire. I will wait until the Lady Morgana is fully recovered, and then I will be on my way.” Against her  will, Merlin found herself intrigued. Few would pass up the king’s praise, especially when hard earned.

“Why don’t you stay awhile?” The question sounded more like an order than an enquiry. “You could live here in the palace.”

“No. I – I feel I would be trespassing. And you already have a court physician of great talent.” Around her, Merlin heard murmuring. _A court physician who failed where this newcomer had succeeded._ _Not so talented after all._

Merlin’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. No matter the man’s intentions, his success had thrown doubt onto Gaius’ abilities.

“I’m sure Gaius would be pleased of your help.” The king said without a care, despite the way that Gaius stiffened at the sugestion.

“It is a kind offer,” Edwin began, “but-”

“Think about it.” Uther commanded. “Dine with me later. Give me your decision then.”  There was no doubt in Merlin’s mind which decision he was expecting.

“To dine with your majesty would be reward in itself.” Edwin Muirden said, bowing low. As the crowds began to filter out, Merlin caught her first glance of the man’s face. His skin was pale, all of it, but half of his face was twisted and marred by terrible burns. But, despite that, he still had a keen intelligence in his eyes, which knocked the wind out of Merlin when their eyes met.

Merlin allowed Arthur to tug her out of the room as they went to visit Morgana in her sickbed, unable to shrug off the feeling that she was of as much interest to Edwin Muirden as he was to her.

.

Merlin knows she shouldn’t go to Edwin’s chambers. She knows she had no excuse except curiosity, and if anyone found out, be it Morgana or Arthur or Uther or Gaius or Gwen, they would all think it stupid and unwarranted.

But Merlin goes anyway.

Ever since she and Edwin had locked gazes there has been a niggling thought compelling her to investigate. There was something off about him, about the whole thing. She had to know.

“Edwin?” she calls at his door as a precaution, but there is no answer. With practiced ease, Merlin unlocks the door with a thought and slips inside.

She looks under the bed, through the draws and inside the pillow cases, finding nothing but linen, goose feathers and robes scratchier than hairvests. If Uther really wanted to reward the man, she thought, he could send him better clothes.

Then, Merlin moves to his equipment. Some of it she recognises from Gaius’ chambers, but other things are foreign to her, and most likely foreign to the land as well. The final thing she came to was a box, which when she opened it was full of dead bugs that seemed to be immaculately preserved. As she closed the lid and went to place it down on the table again, an enscription she hadn’t seen before caught her eye.

“ _Bebeode be arisan ealdu?”_ She said to herself, before suddenly feeling her magic reacting to the words. Confused, she opened the box.

The bugs were alive, and moving.

Merlin’s eyes widened, and she managed to fight down a shout of surprise, but almost dropped the box in her shock at the movement. She flipped the lid shut sharply and set it down hard on the table.

“Very good.” Merlin span around so quickly she spilled a jar full of fine particles all over the floor. Edwin stood before her, the unburnt side of his mouth quirked in a smile.

Merlin tried to say something, tried to deny doing anything, but no sound came past her lips. Edwin did not wait for her reply, instead he swept past her and picked up the box from where she had set it down, before speaking in a low tone that made Merlin’s magic purr: “ _Swefn.”_

Edwin turned back to her, and offered her the box. Merlin took it with shaking hands, and lifted the lid. The bugs, as she had suspected, were still once more.

“You have magic.” Edwin’s voice was not accusatory, but Merlin’s teeth gritted anyway.

“No.” She said, on instinct, “I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me.”

“Then how did they come to life?” the physician asked her, “Only magic can do such a thing, as we both know.” His gaze was intense, and Merlin felt as if he were staring into her very soul. “These little angels,” Edwin said, gesturing to the box, “were how I saved the Lady Morgana’s life. They repaired the damage to her brain in such a way that no potion could have done. Magic is a force for good in this world.”

“I know.” Merlin said automatically.

“Then why do you fear it?” he said, reaching out to brush his palm over her own quaking hand.

“It is banned. Uther executes anyone with magic. He says it is evil.”

“If magic is evil, how could it have saved Morgana? Should I have let her die?”

“No, of course not-” Merlin fell silent when Edwin’s fingers twitched – it was no magic, and he had said no command, but something about the horribly scarred man commanded deep respect.

“People like us, we have a gift.” He said patiently, “Do you not think it should be used to make our world a better place?”

It was as if he had taken her own thoughts and put them to script. Goosebumps stood up on her arms. “Perhaps,” she said as she turned away from his searching eyes, busying herself with scraping together some sand that had toppled out of a goblet she had knocked in her haste to set down the bugs.

“Don’t waste your time with that.” Edwin said, and Merlin jumped as she realized he had moved behind her. They weren’t touching, but something of him – his body heat, perhaps, or his shadow, enveloped her in such a way that she felt surrounded. He spoke quickly in phrases she barely recognised, but his blue eyes flashed a deep gold and suddenly the sand was back where it had been – every last grain.

Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the impressive show, and Edwin smiled back, the first sign of genuine emotion softening his face. “Why waste a talent like that?” he asked. Merlin had no answer, but Muirden didn’t seem to have expected her to. “And I can teach you.”

She swallowed. For one, long moment she wanted to. Desperately. “I can’t.” She said, shaking her head, “I am more at risk than you are. If Arthur should sense anything amiss, I will be on a pyre before dawn.”

“If the prince loves you, then surely he couldn’t do so. You do not seem cruel to me – how do you use this?”

“I... I healed a girl’s father.” Merlin said shakily. “I killed the griffin that was plaguing Camelot’s villages and killing people. But, those were stupid things to do. Gaius doesn’t like me using it-”

Suddenly, Muirden’s face transformed for a moment. He lost the air of a gregarious healer and became a hard, sharp thing, an animal that caught the whiff of bloody meat. Merlin blinked, and all was as it had been before. She wondered if she were imagining things.

“A gift like yours should be nurtured, practiced, enjoyed. You need someone to help you, to encourage you.”

Merlin’s throat went dry. “Perhaps,” she finally  managed to croak out, but even that concession felt as if she were betraying Gaius. But she couldn’t say she didn’t feel like he was weighing her down, because she wanted to learn.

“Imagine what we could achieve,” Edwin said seriously, “if we shared our knowledge.”

Merlin suddenly felt very cold. Her eyes searched his face, and felt as though something about him was less than sincere.

“I should be getting back.”

“Of course.”

Merlin turned to go, ready to all but sprint down the corridor, but Edwin caught her arm. “You must promise to keep our secret safe.”

“Yes. Of course.” Merlin said, and smiled. No matter how Edwin unsettled her, she was not going to sell out a healer who was doing no harm to anyone.

“People like us,” Edwin said, “we must look after one another.”

It was that ominous sentiment that stayed with Merlin for the rest of the day as her mind ticked over the meeting half a hundred times.

.

That night, Arthur was unusually quiet.

“What’s wrong with you?” Merlin asked, cuddling into his side. Absentmindedly Arthur raised his arm so she could burrow closer.

“Thinking.” He said.

“Don’t do that,” she teased, “you might strain something.”

The comment, which would usually get a rise out of him, provoked nothing more than a faint ghost of a smile and a fond squeeze. Merlin closed her eyes, and waited for him to tell her what was going on. He always did tell her, eventually.

“Morgana’s dreams... her nightmares. Edwin thinks it was a symptom of this illness. That’s what he told my father. But Gaius didn’t spot it and plied her with sleeping drafts instead. That’s how it got to this point. That’s how she nearly died.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

“I know he’s your uncle,” Arthur said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “and I’m sure it was just an accident. But it could have killed her. Maybe... maybe Gaius is getting too old to be reliable.”

Merlin looked at him sharply at that. “He is not.”

“We’ll know soon, either way.” Arthur said, and automatically reached up to stroke her hair methodically in such a way that made her go boneless. “Father has charged Edwin to look into Gaius’ cases, to see if he’s made any other mistakes. It probably won’t show anything and this will just be an unfortunate blip.” He sighed, and kneaded his brow.

“See,” Merlin said , “you’ve gone and hurt your brain with all that thinking. Told you so.”

Arthur smiled down at her, and kissed her, tender and slow. “What would I do without you?” he asked.

“Die.” She said in a deadpan voice as he turned around to blow out the candle and plunge them into the welcoming embrace of darkness.

.

The next morning, Merlin rose at dawn to collect Edwin some provisions. Rosemary, cherryblossom, elfbark and yarrow were the main things, but he also needed various berries and flowers that very few people would collect without asking about their uses.

She kissed Arthur goodbye, and he moaned in discontent as the warm shape of his mistress left his side. “Come back,” he groaned, “I’ll send George to get the bloody plants.”

“You can do without me for one morning,” she told him cheekily, and before she could think better of it, opened the windows wide to let in the morning sunlight and cold air. She all but ran out of the chamber as Arthur roared, swearing vengeance.

.

In the end, the supplies didn’t take anywhere near as long to gather as she thought, and so she decided to pay a visit to Gaius in light of her and Arthur’s conversation the night before. However, when she got to the court physician’s chamber, she saw that he had company.

“Edwin!” she cried out, “Just the man I wanted to see. I have your provisions!” The scarred side of Edwin’s face twisted into what looked like a painful smile.

“Oh, thank you Merlin.” Edwin said as Merlin passed him her basket. “Me and Gaius were just reminiscing about old times, weren’t we?”

“Yes.” Gaius said with a clenched jaw. Merlin wondered if he was being cold to Edwin because he discovered that Uther had ordered the younger man to check all his cases.

“But now, I must get back to work.” Edwin said jovially, and made for the door. “Merlin, Gaius.” He bowed shallowly before leaving.

Gaius looked away and sighed as the other man left. “Are you alright?” Merlin asked. The old man’s shoulders hunched as if he were carrying a great weight.

“Fine, fine. Leave me, I must get on.”

Merlin left reluctantly. “Do you want me to get you anything?” she asked before she went, hoping he would find some menial task for her to do whilst he told her exactly what was going on.

But he shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just... do as Edwin asks.”

As she walked back through the maze of corridors, Merlin could not help the feeling that she had missed something important.

.

Merlin stood in the wings of the assembly hall as Edwin stood before Uther to give his report. There was no other audience, but Merlin had come in as Arthur’s mistress, not Gaius’ niece or even a servant. She was not of any true standing, but this had allowed her to slip through the loophole that prevented other lords and ladies attending. To either side of the king, Morgana and Arthur sat, the ward looking still very frail and white.

Arthur caught her eye as the proceedings were about to start, and smiled encouragingly. Merlin made herself breathe.

“I have been through the court medical records with a fine tooth comb, your majesty.” Edwin began, his hands clasped in front of him lightly.

“And were your findings satisfactory?” Uther asked, sitting like a man made of stone his back was so straight.

Edwin thinned his lips. “With regret, I would have to stay that they were not.”

An icy hand gripped tightly onto Merlin’s heart.

“How so?” The king demanded, leaning forward, his stern eyes flashing.

To his credit, Edwin did not quaver before him.

“Gaius is a great man,” he said apologetically, “thorough and dedicated.”

“But?” Uther ground out.

Edwin sighed, and did not meet any of their eyes. “His methods are outdated. He has failed to keep up with the latest developments and this has led to a number of errors.”

“Gaius has served me well for twenty five years.” Uther said, with a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“And one _cannot_ blame him for the infirmity those years have wrought. Age... can be a terrible curse.”

Uther stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is time to lighten his burdens. Have you given anymore thought to my offer?”

_Offer?_ Merlin wondered, looking to Arthur who looked as confused as she felt. _What offer?_

“Yes,” Edwin said without elaborating, “I have given it much time and thought.”

“Allow me some time to do the same.” The king said after a moment and Edwin nodded, before bowing low and walking out of the chamber sharply. The moment the door closed behind him Morgana sprung from her chair.

“Uther, you can’t do this.” She said immediately, and Merlin had never felt such gratitude towards anyone in her life. Arthur had stood up from his throne and walked over to Merlin, threading his fingers through hers and squeezing her palm.

“You heard what he said,” Uther said, pouring himself a goblet of wine. “Gaius is old, he makes mistakes.”

Merlin ground her teeth together. It took all her self control not to scream at the king, but she knew that wouldn’t help Gaius’ case.

“Gaius has treated me since before I remember,” Morgana said in a high, tense voice, “you can’t just- just cast him out.”

Uther turned to face his ward, and for a moment seemed to sweep his eyes over Merlin’s drained expression. He seemed to reconsider his words, perhaps for her benefit. “Gaius... he has served us well. He will hardly be cast out. But, Morgana, if your care had been left to him then you would have died. That is something I could not bear.”

Suddenly, Merlin felt that she was seeing something she shouldn’t. Merlin felt Arthur’s hand rub against her wrist, and she found it strangely comforting. She forced herself to concentrate on the king again.

“I know that, but...” To Merlin’s horror, Morgana dwindled off.

“I cannot risk something like this happening again.” Uther said sharply, before draining his glass.

“Sire-” Merlin said suddenly, against her better judgement.

Uther flicked his hard eyes to her. “I have made my decision.” He said sharply, and Merlin fell silent. She went to go, knowing when she was dismissed.

“Merlin.” Uther called, and she turned, amazed the king had remembered her name.

“Yes, sire?”

“Loyalty is not a crime. Go to Gaius. Perhaps he will appreciate the news from a friend before he hears it officially from his king.”

Merlin dipped into a curtsey before turned and stepping out of the chamber. She managed to hold back the tears until Gaius opened his door absentmindedly, and she fell sobbing into his arms.

.

“I can’t believe he’d do this to you,” Merlin cried as Gaius stroked her hair, “it’s not fair! You tried, you tried to save her, it wasn’t your _fault!_ I can’t believe that Uther would just... just discard you after all you’ve done. After all the years you’ve given him and this kingdom. Just for a single mistake-”

“Hush,” Gaius said, a thread of resignation already in his voice. “The king is not to blame. I... I am old. Don’t worry about me. It’s time I stepped down. Perhaps... I will go visit your mother.”

“You’ll go so soon?” Merlin knew she wasn’t imagining the whine that had come into her voice.

“I cannot stay where there’s no longer a use for me.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Gaius shook his head, as if she was a troublesome child that he couldn’t believe had made such a silly suggestion. “You know that isn’t possible. You must stay here, with Arthur. You and him... you have something. Don’t let it go. You belong here, at his side.”

Tears slipped down Merlin’s cheeks that she couldn’t wipe away fast enough to hide. “You belong here too. Camelot is your home.”

“Not anymore, Merlin. This is not my time anymore. Will you promise me something?” Merlin couldn’t speak, so nodded wordlessly as Gaius stroked her cheek with his worn, old hands. “You must promise me you will not waste your gifts.”

“My gifts mean nothing without you to guide me.” Merlin choked out.

“You,” Gaius said gently, but with firmness, “have a great destiny. If I had even a small part to play in that, then I am pleased.”

“But... there’s so much I have to learn. About magic, about myself. I need you to teach me.” Merlin felt a wave of grief come over her as she realized she was like a child begging the seasons to stay the same and never change.

“I am leaving this place tonight, Merlin. After the king officially retires me. And nothing you can say will change my mind.”

“I won’t let this happen.” Merlin said, shaking her head in denial. She ran out of the room, mind racing. She didn’t hear Gaius’ faint farewell, full of resignation.

.

“I can’t understand why your father would fire Gaius over one mistake,” Merlin said to Arthur as he pummelled his frustration out on the wooden dummy before him.

“A mistake that nearly killed Morgana.” Arthur said, leaning on his sword as he hunched over, “Besides it wasn’t the only one.”

Merlin stood a little straighter. To Arthur’s eyes, she looked like she hadn’t slept for days, even though he knew the falseness of that as she’d slept beside him the night before. Her eyes were red raw from crying and her hair was a mess. Still, she looked beautiful in a way that made his heart thump hard in his chest.

“What do you mean?” she said mulishly, her mouth in a thin line.

“Edwin said his work was riddled with errors, and had been for years.” Arthur panted, and quailed under her harsh glare.

“That’s nonsense.” Merlin spat, and crossed her arms tight against her chest.

Arthur dropped his sword and walked over, brushing errant locks of hair that had blown in front of her cheeks behind her ears. He smiled as he touched the larger than normal ears, but that smile died as he met her torn gaze.

“No one wants Gaius to go,” Arthur said, choosing his words carefully, “but my father’s made his decision. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

Merlin’s expression broke. Arthur pulled her into a tight hug just before her shoulders began shaking.

.

Merlin didn’t remember falling asleep – she had curled up on Gaius’ bed, trying to keep that small part of him with her, and had drifted off. She woke as the door to the physician’s chambers banged open.

Sitting bolt upright, Merlin caught sight of Arthur’s drawn, worried face. “Merlin!” he said, something half wild in his voice. “My father has Morgana’s illness – we have to find Edwin! We have to find him now!”

Merlin suddenly remembered the bugs.

“We’ll split up,” she said quickly as she pulled on her shoes, “I’ll go to his chamber, you check the wings.”

Arthur nodded, and ran off without a second thought. Merlin went in the other direction, heart pumping and mind still dizzy from her dream, where a boy and his father had been burning.

.

Merlin burst into Edwin’s chambers, ready to find the box if not Edwin, as the man himself said that the bugs had saved Morgana – they had to be able to save Uther too. As little love as she held for the man, she couldn’t stand by whilst he died and she knew how to save him. He was Arthur’s father. Arthur needed him still.

All thoughts of the box of bugs flew from Merlin’s mind, though, when she skidded to a stop in Edwin’s chambers, where Gaius and Edwin stood, the former surrounded by a ring of burning flames.

“Gaius!” she cried, having thought the man would be well on his way to Ealdor. She then turned to Edwin, who stood almost lazily at the side of the circle. “What are you doing?”

“He is trying to kill the king!” Gaius told her hurriedly, even as Edwin simply tilted his head at her slowly, as if he was a great animal figuring out the best way to swallow her whole. “I couldn’t let him, Merlin, I couldn’t leave.”

Before Merlin could even process that, Edwin spoke. His voice was different, now, an undercurrent of cruelty languished in his otherwise scholarly and measured tones. “I can rule the kingdom now. Together,” he says, “we could be all-powerful.”

“Let him go!” she screams, confused as to why no guards have come at the sound. But then she realizes, she had heard nothing of the flames or the voices until she had stepped into the room – there had to be a sound barrier around the chamber somehow.

“Such a pity,” Edwin says, looking as if he was truly sorry for something, “it’s your loss.”

Merlin didn’t see him make the spell, but more felt it. She pushed up a shield around herself just before an axe from the wall flew towards her, and hovered in midair. Edwin’s eyes widened for a moment, and he smiled, perhaps at her power. Still, he said again – “ _Svilthe, Merlin.”_

She felt the axe renew it’s attempts to touch her, but suddenly with a confidence that Merlin didn’t know she possessed, she pushed back. It felt like she was running after walking all her life, the way stretching your muscles feels wonderful.

Edwin’s eyes widened for a different reason as the axe turned towards him. Merlin’s eyes flashed golden.

It happened so fast that Merlin couldn’t cancel her spell quick enough for it to stop when it hit Edwin. It went all the way through him and straight out the window, the blood from the sorcerer painting the walls and the floor.

Edwin’s body hit the floor with a thud, his eyes still open and staring, and Merlin turned around and promptly vomited in the corner as the circle of flames around Gaius died.

Once she felt enough strength in her legs to stand, she tottered over to Edwin’s broken body and bent down to close his eyes, still full of hate, even in death.

( _Daddy!_ The little blond boy from her dream cried as his father burned at the pyre, _daddy I’m coming to save you!)_

She turned to look at Gaius as she stepped away from Edwin’s body and the still growing pool of blood around it. The servants for the west wing would be livid, she thought hysterically, having to get the blood out of the flagstones.

Gaius himself was shaking, the ends of his white hair slightly frazzled from the heat.

“Are you alright?” Merlin made herself ask, voice thick.

Gaius nodded thrice, before finding his voice. “Yes.” He said, before breathing heavily and adding: “Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from Edwin’s corpse.

But she had to, she reminded herself. The king was ill. She had to find the bugs that Edwin had used to cure Morgana.

With all the strength of will she had, Merlin forced her gaze to the table of Edwin’s instruments and searched for the beetle box. She swept it up and held onto it with shaking hands.

“What is it?” Gaius asked, making his way slowly over to her.

“Uther is ill; the same thing Morgana had.” Merlin explained, “Edwin told me that these were what he used to cure her. They’ll have to work to cure Uther to.” Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. Uther. Uther would have her killed, if he knew what she could do. Uther had murdered and stolen and destroyed, and here she was. Saving him.

Suddenly, she had the fiercest wish to throw the box out the window and just let him die. She wouldn’t be the one killing him. Would she?

It was a good thing, she thinks later, that Gaius had taken the box from her at that moment and opened it to peer inside.

“Elanthia beetles,” Gaius said with a measure of surprise, “of course.”

“They’re magical?” Merlin asked, glad for the distraction from her own dark and traitorous thoughts.

“Oh yes,” Gaius said gravely, “they can be enchanted to enter a man’s brain and devour it from the inside out.” Merlin couldn’t contain her shudder at the description. No. No matter all the bad, terrible things that Uther had done, he didn’t deserve that end. “We must be going to the king at once.”

Merlin nodded mutely, all too happy to let him take control of the situation. It was, she thought, as the exited the chamber, what he did best.

.

The King of Camelot looked very vulnerable, and very dead, laid out on his large bed. His pallor was grey and Merlin was afraid to come too close, considering she still had Edwin’s blood quite literally on her hands.

“How can we- I mean, is it possible to get the bug out of him before it kills him? I mean, Edwin managed it with Morgana.” She twisted her hands together, heart thumping in her chest, still flooded with adrenaline from her earlier kill.

“Yes,” Gaius said in a measured tone, raising his eyebrow at her in a way that made her feel vaguely ill, “there is a way. Magic.”

Merlin looked at him. Opened her mouth. Closed it. Swallowed. “No. No, no. We can’t use magic on _Uther_. He’ll kill us.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“Gaius!” Merlin protested, knowing very well that he wouldn’t be the one doing the deed.

“There are times when it is necessary.” Gaius said seriously, as if it weren’t going against everything he said every hour of every day. “This is your birthright, Merlin.”

“I- I don’t know how.” Merlin said, desperately.

“Merlin,” Gaius said, “If you don’t even so much as _try_ , he’s going to die. You know as well as I do that Arthur is not ready to be king.”

And well, Merlin really couldn’t argue with that.

She made her way over to the king’s bedside with shaking legs, painfully aware that a guard or servant or Arthur or Morgana or some other lord or lady could walk in at any moment and see her about to perform magic on their comatose monarch.

Uther’s cheeks were clammy and cold as Merlin placed her hands over them. She tried to summon up some measure of confidence, which had deserted her after her duel with Edwin, and remember the words.

“ _Bebeode be arisan ealdu. Ablinnen.”_ The words snaked out of her as if she had memorized them, even though she had only heard them the once. Something crept out of the king’s ear, into Merlin’s hand. Grimacing, she made a fist and pulled it away.

“What’s happening?” Gaius asked, wringing his hands together. Merlin opened her hand to reveal the still, bloody bug that she had removed. Gaius looked as shocked as she felt.

“You did it.” He said, before smiling widely. Quieter, he said to himself, “It really is true.” But Merlin didn’t question him on it, too relieved to question anything at that moment in time.

.

That night, Merlin begged off Arthur’s company, as the prince was with his recently recovered father in his sickbed, and took a walk down to the forest. Once she was far enough in, she found a stump and poured the bugs out onto a treestump, still frozen.

Merlin took a deep breath, before carefully and methodically crushing each and every one into a pulp.

When she was finally satisfied, she took the box and threw it into a river, where it quickly sunk to the bottom. “Good riddance.” She said to herself, and began her trek back to the castle, feeling much better.

.

“Their names were Gregor and Jaden,” Gaius tells her in the morning as he prepares his things to go and treat Uther, “they were not bad people. They practiced dark magic from time to time, but only when they felt necessary. I made that my excuse to allow their deaths. I made a lot of excuses in those days. I watched as my countrymen and women were slaughtered. I always knew someone would come back, wanting revenge. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner than now.”

“And... Edwin?”

“He was eight when they were burned. The pyres were burning sundown to sunrise, and it was like a different kind of daylight. I got Uther to spare the children. Exile them. I could not save their parents. Edwin... he was meant to be away. No child should see that. He tried to save them. That was how he got the burns. I still hear him. I still hear all of them. All the children screaming.”

Merlin drew her legs up to her chest and shuddered. “I wish...” She couldn’t finish her thought.

Gaius placed one of his old, veined hands over her own. “I know.”

“Will you- what are their names? Do you remember?”

Gaius cast his eyes down. There was shame there. “I remember them all. They were my friends once.”

“Tell me.” Merlin croaked, placing her head on his shoulder.

Gaius took a sharp breath. “Merlin, you don’t know-”

“No.” She said, “but I need to. Tell me, Gaius. Please. I have to know.”

Silence reigned for a moment, and Merlin thought Gaius was going to refuse, before he began to speak in a hoarse voice. “Tabitha. Llewyen. Ruth. Isobel. Just. Hearth. Kettle. Harmony. Anna. Ygritte. Jon. Grenn. Pyp. Sam. Heather. Val. Pi. Eloise. Beth. Gull. Doug. James...”

He spoke for half the night. In the morning, Merlin was half dead on her feet. But it was worth it, she decided. They were worth it.

One day, she promised herself, she’d honour them all. She didn’t know how. But she knew she would.

And for now, that was all she could do for them.


	7. The Gates of Avalon

Merlin had become long resigned to Arthur’s love of hunting by the time she had been at court for five months. When he declared he was going away to shoot at innocent animals, Merlin had become accustomed to rolling her eyes and spending those days with Morgana and Gwen, who had accepted her into their friendship with open arms and lots of gossip.

“Please come,” he had begged her for what felt like the hundredth time, “it’ll be fun. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Merlin had just raised an eyebrow at him, looking up from where she had been drawing the front of the castle as a present for Morgana, who had said how much she enjoyed the view – specifically the windows, which were becoming very tedious indeed. Why Morgana couldn’t enjoy another, less complex part of the castle Merlin didn’t know.

“I’m good here.” She said drily. “You go and shoot things with George.”

Arthur’s nose wrinkled at the sound of his well-meaning, proper servant. “He’s trying,” he says grumpily, sitting down beside her on the grass, “but he’s just so- argh. I swear, he scares off everything. The man doesn’t know how to speak or step quietly.” In the corner of her eye, Merlin saw that Garth, her sometimes personal guard whenever Arthur got paranoid, stifle a chuckle.

“The animals must love him.” Merlin says. At Arthur questioning look, she grins. “Gives them ample warning to know some lunatic with a crossbow is coming to kill them.”

“Some lunatic with a crossbow?” Arthur says, raising his eyebrows, “Is that any way to speak of your prince?”

Merlin gives up on the windows, and taps her quill against her chin. “Yes.” She says shortly.

“Why you little...” Arthur’s fingers alight at Merlin’s sides, causing her to drop her quill and pad of paper in the grass.

“No!” she squealed, trying to wriggle away while shrieking with laughter, “Arthur! Stop, you big bully, oh my- no! Arthur!”

“Beg!” Arthur crowed as she squirmed beneath him, “Beg me!”

“Never!” she pants, scrambling to her feet and running away, the prince in hot pursuit.

“I’ll get you!” He yells, and Merlin smiles so widely her face hurts as she runs. Garth steps to the side sharply to avoid her mowing him down, and Merlin thinks she sees him rolling his eyes at their antics. That was good, she thought, as she vaulted across the land. Garth needed to become less in awe of Arthur. It would do the prince’s ego some good.

Arthur does finally catch her, but not before she gets halfway across the field and loses both her slippers somewhere in the long grass. “Now, what was that about me being a crossbow-wielding lunatic?” he said smugly as he hefted her over his shoulder.

“Now you’re just a plain lunatic.” Merlin said tartly. In retaliation, Arthur began to spin round, making her scream at the way the ground moved. “Stop! Stop!”

“I have a condition.” Arthur said as he continued to blithely spin her, as if he has all the time in the world.

“Yes, yes!” she cried, kicking her legs at thin air.

“You have to promise to come hunting with me in the future. Not today, I know you and Morgana have plans for lunch or something,” his tone says he has no desire at all to know what that something is, instead chalking it up to a ‘girl thing’ he didn’t want anything to do with, “but soon.”

“Deal!” Merlin gasps out. As Arthur puts her down, the world spins and Merlin finds herself laying on her back, laughing hysterically.

“Quite literally falling at my feet.” Arthur says drily. Merlin aimed a kick at his shin and misses by a comical distance.

Arthur just laughs, the prat.

.

Merlin, after recovering her shoes, treks back to Camelot with Arthur and Garth, although the guard was staying five metres behind at all times.

“Do you want any particular meat?” Arthur asks as they enter the courtyard.

“I don’t mind. Wait, no. Not anything fluffy. Like rabbits. You can’t shoot any rabbits.”

Arthur snorts. “I’ll see what I can do. No rabbits.”

Merlin waves him away with a smile, before going into the castle to change into a dress without grass-stains. She was already late for Morgana. It was, of course, all Arthur’s fault.

.

In the end, Merlin got to Morgana’s fifteen minutes late. She knocked on the door, huffing, as she had ran all the way there. Gwen came to the door, and Merlin smiled. “Sorry, I, um, lost track of time.”

Gwen grinned at her friend. “Better late than never. Come in, come in.”

As it was every time that Merlin entered Morgana’s chambers, she felt as if she was stepping into a different world. The curtains were light and airy, the vases full of fresh flowers daily, and the walls covered with tapestries. It was Morgana’s haven, to an extent, and Merlin loved it there.

“Merlin,” Morgana said in relief, standing up from her table where three places were set, “I thought Arthur had convinced you to go on one of those horrible hunts with him.”

“Well, it wasn’t so much as convincing as blackmailing...” Morgana smiled so brightly that Merlin felt as if she was looking into the light of the sun and sat down, Gwen following her example. There was a light broth for lunch, Merlin’s favourite, and she thanked Gwen for it, recognizing her friend’s signature garnish.

They talked a bit about the workings of court, various nobles that had come to visit and the newest fashions that had arrived from Mercia until they were on dessert. Merlin collected the plates despite Gwen’s insistences that she could do it, before seeing that Morgana had barely touched her soup.

“Morgana, are you alright?” she asked, “Are you feeling unwell?” Morgana blinked, hard, as if she had been somewhere else, before looking down and seeing that Merlin and Gwen had finished.

“Oh, yes,” Morgana said faintly, “Quite alright. The soup is gorgeous, Gwen.”

Merlin and Gwen exchanged concerned looks, but Merlin set out the tart without a fuss, simply placing Morgana’s to the side of her place so she could move on once she finished her soup.

“I had this dream,” Morgana said suddenly, after a moment of quiet eating. “It was very... disturbing.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed, “How so, m’lady?” At Morgana’s glare, Gwen blushed. “I mean, Morgana.”

“It had Arthur in it-”

“Well, that’s why it was disturbing.” Merlin quipped, making Morgana smile in amusement before it faded away at the memory of the dream.

“Arthur was underwater.” Morgana said, taking another sip of her soup, “He looked asleep. Like he was drowning. And there was this girl... I’ve never seen her before, but she was holding him under somehow. Looking down on him. Waiting for him to die.”

Merlin found herself unable to eat anymore of the tart, and put her fork down.

“Arthur’s a great swimmer,” she heard herself say, “and it was just a dream.”

Morgana nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I know. It just... it felt so real.”

Gwen reached out, and gave Morgana’s hand a squeeze. “Does anybody want to go down in the market?” the maid suddenly suggested, changing the topic, “There’s a new shipment of ribbons come from Cenred’s kingdom.”

“Love to.” Merlin jumped on the opportunity, and the three of them walked out into the bright summer sun. The rest of the day was nothing short of idyllic, but Merlin couldn’t shake off a feeling of foreboding from Morgana’s dream.

.

It was two days later when Merlin headed to the morning assembly to see Arthur there when he really shouldn’t have been home for another few days. Smiling, Merlin went to make her way over to him but the assembly began before she could weave through the crowd.

The first matter of the day was two foreigners, dressed in silk and velvet with staffs made of crystal that drew the eye. After asking around, Merlin learned from Lady Stoutheart that Arthur had returned early having rescued them in woods, which explained his presence.

“My name is Aulfric,” the elder man introduced himself, “heir of Tirmawr, and this is my daughter Sophia.” He gestured to the pretty, smirking girl next to him, who bowed her head to Uther in deference.

“You’re a long way from home.” Uther observed, “What brings you to Camelot?”

“Our home was sacked by raiders. We barely escaped with what few possessions we could carry.” Merlin tried to catch Arthur’s eye, but his focus was on the foreigners.

“These are dangerous times. What will you do?” Uther asked, guarded. If they desired to settle in Camelot, they would have to be told of the fertility problem. And Uther tried to keep that secret as well hidden as possible.

“We will travel west to Caerleon where we have family, and I hope, a new life.” Aulfric said, and the king’s entire demeanour relaxed. If they weren’t staying for any extended length of time, there would be no need to trust them with Camelot’s secret.

“You must stay here a while,” he said genially, “break your journey. A noble family like yours is always welcome in Camelot.”

Aulfric and Sophia bowed and curtsied respectfully, before turning to leave. Sophia turned, and Merlin saw her meet Arthur’s gaze.

Arthur looked right back, something hot and smouldering in his face.

A cold hand clenched tightly in Merlin’s stomach at the look in his eyes that he usually only reserved for her.

.

Merlin hadn’t been able to get a moment alone with Arthur after the assembly, and had instead gone to spend time with Morgana, knowing if she was left on her own she’d go mad trying to figure out what was going on.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she said to Morgana, “I knew it would happen at some point. He can have five more mistresses without any shame at all. What man wouldn’t take advantage of that?”

“Arthur,” Morgana said consolingly, “he wasn’t brought up that way. Uther was very much a one woman man, and he raised his son to be the same. This is, at worst, a passing interest. He loves you.”

Merlin looked at Morgana, eyes wide. Her and Arthur had said they wouldn’t tell anyone the true extent of their feelings for one another. “How did you-”

“Merlin, you and Arthur are many wonderful things. Subtle, however, is not one of those things.”

Merlin groaned as they walked, about to ask how many other people knew when Morgana came to a complete stop, staring at something. Merlin followed her gaze to see Sophia disappearing into another room, smiling.

“Morgana?” Merlin said her friend’s name.

Morgana opened and closed her mouth again, her face draining of blood until she looked as white as chalk. “That’s her.” She said softly, “The girl from my dream. The one that kills Arthur. Who is that?”

Merlin clenched her teeth. “Sophia Tirmawr.”

“The one that...?” Morgana said, reading the answer in Merlin’s eyes. She turned back towards the doorway that Sophia disappeared into with a clenched jaw. “We have a problem.”

.

Morgana had excused herself, saying she was going to Gaius to see what he thought about her dream and Sophia Tirmawr. With nothing else to do, Merlin made her way up to Arthur’s chambers.

She went to open the door after greeting the guards but something stopped her when she heard George saying “...very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” Arthur’s voice answered him.

“There are rooms on the opposite side of the hallway free, sire.” George said, and Merlin knows she should open the door. She knows she should go in and stop eavesdropping. She knows she should. She knows the guards know she’s listening in, and she knows it’s wrong, but even though her hand is on the door can’t push it open.

She meets the bulkier guard’s eyes, and he looks at her with sympathy.

“You don’t have to hear this, miss.” He said quietly.

Merlin’s words were stuck in her throat. She nodded, but couldn’t move. After a moment, the guard nodded with understanding and looked straight ahead again, as if she weren’t there.

“Not in the mistresses rooms?” For a moment, Arthur’s question gave Merlin some small hope that was quickly dashed. “She may take offence.”

“No, sire. The ones across the hall. Suitable for a noble lady.”

Merlin bit her lip. _Please,_ she begged Arthur with everything she had, _say no._ “Alright,” Arthur’s voice sounded and Merlin stepped away from the door, closing her eyes in defeat. “You’ve convinced me. Move her across the hall from me.”

Merlin took a small, gasping breath before running away from the door as fast as she could go, tears streaking down her cheeks.

.

Merlin spent the rest of the day miserable. She ended up going into the wood just to be alone, because everyone in the castle seemed to sense the regard that the prince held for Sophia, and sent her pitying looks.

“He said he loved me,” Merlin said to nobody, “he said he loved me.”

The words sounded false to her own ears, like something she had made up. What little girl hadn’t dreamed of being with a prince, who said he loved her, and her alone? It was like a fairytale, but Merlin was not a princess, or even a noble. Girls like her didn’t end up with princes.

“He said he loved me.” She said a final time, and began to cry quietly.

.

That night, Merlin didn’t go to Arthur’s chambers. She stayed in her own, reading. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t sleep.

At half ten, Arthur came to her.

“There you are,” he grinned, “I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Really?” Merlin said noncommittally, turning the page.

“Have you missed me?” he said, stripping off his shirt and breeches. “I’ve missed you.”

Merlin pursed her lips as he climbed into bed beside her.

He went to put a hand on her shoulder but she flinched away. Arthur frowned and snatched her book away. “Hey!” she said, reaching for it.

“Nope.” Arthur said, smiling, “I don’t think so. You can’t pay more attention to a book that you do to me.”

“Give it back.” Merlin said, crossing her arms.

“Make me.” He teased, walking away and waving it in the air. Merlin stayed where she was glaring at him.

When he saw that she wasn’t going to play along, Arthur put it down on the floor. “What?” he asked, and then repeated himself when she didn’t reply.

“Nothing.” Merlin said, “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, frowning, “Has somebody upset you?”

“Yes, actually.” Merlin snapped. “You have.”

Arthur looked confused. “What have I done?” he asked, so earnest that Merlin knew he had to be faking it.

“You’re not that thick, Arthur. Don’t pretend to be.”

“If this is about Sophia-”

“Damn right, this is about Sophia!” Merlin screamed suddenly. “What the fuck has gotten into you? What makes you think this is okay?”

“Think what is okay?” Arthur asked, “Welcoming refugee nobles? Talking to other women?”

“Don’t you dare make me look paranoid.” Merlin said, advancing on the prince, “You know what you’ve done. The way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. Moving her into the room across the hall just so you can be near her. If you’re going to do this, then know I won’t be a part of it.”

“Merlin-”

“Shut up!” She screeched suddenly. She knew she was getting hysterical but she was so hurt and hadn’t been able to say anything to anyone all day. “All day people have been looking at me like I’m suddenly a pitiable creature, because they know you don’t give a fuck anymore. You’ve seen this new girl and suddenly you don’t know who I am.”

“That’s not true!” Arthur suddenly bellowed and Merlin shrunk back. “I want to be her friend. Nothing more. Merlin, you know I love you-” he goes to hold her, and she steps beyond his reach.

“You say that, but you aren’t showing it. I know you’re going riding together tomorrow. I know you’re going without an escort.”

“Merlin, you can’t act like this every time I so much as speak to another woman-”

“That’s unfair,” she says, “you know that this is what I have been dreading ever since I got made your bloody mistress. Another woman coming along and becoming your new favourite. Being disposable, because what am I, what are my feelings, compared to the prince of Camelot’s? You are not the one who has to come back to this room every night Arthur, and look at that door leading to the next uninhabited room made for another one of me. And the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.”

There was a silence then, and Merlin turned away from him.

“You- I- shit, fuck- Merlin, I do love you-”

“Leave please.” She says, not looking at him, because if she looks at him she’ll want him to stay. She waits for him to say something, anything, protest even a little. But there’s silence, and then the door back to his chamber falling shut.

Merlin is out of tears now, so she just stares at it, and knows that even though Arthur is in the next room, he may as well be a million miles away.

.

The next day, Merlin goes to the assembly hall alone. She barely hears anything that goes on, so busy is she ignoring the looks and whispers, but she notices that Arthur and Sophia are absent, and when George is questioned the poor manservant takes the fall for Arthur’s disappearance.

As she’s leaving, Lancelot appears out of thin air and shoots glares at everyone who even so much as glances her way. She hadn’t seen her friend in weeks, as he’d gone to his new lands to get everything in order, and hugs him as hard as she can.

“They deserve each other,” Lancelot tells her, and smiles at her in such a way that she feels worth something again.

.

Catching up with Lancelot ends up being exactly what Merlin needs: he is everything that Arthur isn’t being. Kind, courteous, generous, intelligent and, most importantly, honest. He tells her about his worries, his fears, his hopes for himself and his land, all the dreams that have been born ever since he was made a lord and all the possibilities that came with that post. Lancelot speaks about how he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Gwen, and how he’s been writing her poetry that he’s been too nervous to send.

It turns out, he’s brought it with him. He says he trusts her not to laugh at it, and tell him if she thinks Gwen will like it. There is an innocence in his love that makes him impossible not to like.

_“Lady of the sunrise, of the little pathway blooms,_  
_Queen of my castle, my love you consume._  
_Heaven in my heart, dream in my head,_  
_I am your pilgrim, you turn my limbs to lead._  
_Beauty in the market, hope in my breast,_  
_Without you my heart does not beat in my chest._  
_Lady of the daytime, of the large ocean blue,_  
_Queen of my castle, my love you consume.”_  


“Lancelot... it’s beautiful.”

At her praise, Lancelot’s eyes shine. “You really think so? You think she’ll like it?”

“She’ll love it.” Merlin encourages him, and tries to be happy for him. Instead, the absence of Arthur in his chambers, in the entire castle, makes everything feel muted.

.

The next day, Arthur is absent from court again.

Merlin shuts herself in her room and receives no visitors. She knows she shouldn’t wallow in her grief of a relationship she can feel herself losing grip of by the second, but she has to.

Gaius comes to her door, and so does Gwen. Even George makes the journey, saying that he doesn’t understand exactly, but he does sympathize, and she should wait for the prince to grow tired of Sophia and come back to the one he truly loves.

That is where Merlin realizes she’s well and truly fucked – when George begins giving her advice about her love life.

.

Merlin only leaves her room when she hears the door next door open and close – George had already done all his chores for the day, which meant that Arthur was back. And no matter how thick the wall was between the two rooms, Merlin couldn’t bear to be so close.

She tugged on her clothes aggressively, not caring that they were her old ones, and bound her hair back with a single tie, not bothering to brush it or braid it. She looked like a mess, she knew she did, but she felt like a mess, and she wasn’t going to parade around the court like she didn’t know exactly what was happening.

So she goes out, shivering in the cool night air, before swearing as she realizes she forgot her shoes. Merlin goes back and pulls them on, pleased she hadn’t bothered to close her door. Her door, _hah_. It soon wouldn’t even be her room.

Merlin moved out with hunched shoulders, trying to think of where she could go in the castle that was quiet, and where no one would question her or pity her or even so much as talk to her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost walked out into the corridor where she heard Sophia and Aulfric’s voices.

She skittered to a stop, and peered around the stone arch, barely daring to breathe. She wasn’t that pretty, Merlin thought spitefully as she looked at Sophia, before her heart dropped and she realized that she wasn’t pretty because she was beautiful. She was barely listening to their conversation when suddenly her ears pricked up at the mention of her name.

“Not even Merlin could reach him now. He’s ready,” Sophia told Aulfric, a smug undercurrent in her voice making Merlin want to reach out and strangle her. “Tomorrow he’ll do what we need him to without a thought.”

“Good,” Aulfric said, a strange sort of pride in his voice that made Merlin’s skin crawl. “You have done well. Now, I must go to meet the elders. Before it is too late.”

Sophia nodded, and re-entered Arthur’s chambers. Aulfric looked left, then right, and didn’t see Merlin. He set off down the griffin staircase.

Merlin now knew exactly where she’d be going that night. She was going to follow Aulfric and get some answers.

.

Merlin was lucky she was light on her feet.

She had been trailing Aulfric for half an hour, and the old man had led her out of the castle, through the town, across the pastures and into the wood. She had not expected he would go so far, but the fact that he did made his late-night meeting even more suspicious.

Finally, they seemed to reach the lord’s destination. The lake they came to was one that Merlin had swum in many a time, but she had never seen it in moonlight. It seemed eerie, somehow, as if some great behemoth was lurking just below the surface.

For a moment, Aulfric just stood there, staring at the lake and Merlin began to worry that the people he was meeting weren’t going to come. But then, the old man lifted his staff, which was identical to the one that his daughter carried, and without any words the wind immediately rose at the same pace the man rose his arm, until Merlin’s hair was whipping around her face madly and the calm water had become a minutare sea in the middle of the sea. The trees around her began to creak and groan, and became the perfect cover for Merlin’s panting breaths.

She became aware of a harsh buzzing in her ears, growing louder and louder. Not painful, but unpleasant, like a kind of insect coming far too close for comfort.

“I seek an audience with the Sidhe elders!” Aulfric suddenly proclaimed into the storm, “ _Do tiag sa ar idbriat do denam!_ ”

Immediately, lights burst from nowhere into the sky. They were like blue flames, darting about with no true control or direction. _Magic_ , Merlin knew _, they were magic._

_Slower,_ she thought, not realizing she had made it into a command she had forced her magic to obey. The trees suddenly stopped moving, as did Merlin’s hair and the waves all but stilled. The blue flames were no longer impossible to focus upon, but had become small, blue shimmering people with wings the same size as a butterfly’s. Beautiful, Merlin thought, and it broke the spell. Time resumed but Merlin was still entranced with the image she held in her mind’s eye of the Sidhe’s grace.

“I come before you to plead for the chance to win passage back to Avalon and a life of immortality!” Merlin didn’t understand Aulfric’s impassioned plea at first, before her mind caught up with her.

They were Sidhe. Somehow, Sophia and Aulfric were not human at all, but truly these graceful, impossible, beautiful creatures in disguise.

Merlin was too far away to hear which of the Sidhe replied. But the voice was male, and grating, and hurt the insides of Merlin’s ears. “Your punishment for killing another Sidhe is a mortal life and a mortal body. You will never be able to return to Avalon.”

There were high, breathy, biting laughs from the other elders, but Aulfric did not flinch. “The crime was mine,” he says, “not my daughter’s.”

“The gates of Avalon remain closed to your daughter,” the same voice sneered, “unless, of course, the soul of a mortal prince be offered to them as payment.”

Merlin felt every bone in her body stiffen. She felt her very blood run cold. Arthur. They could mean no one other than Arthur.

“Thank you.” Aulfric said, sounding close to tears. “An immortal life for my daughter is all that I desire, and so I pledge to you the soul of the greatest prince of all – Arthur Pendragon!”

Merlin had heard enough. Eyes wide and heart thumping so loud she was amazed she Sidhe couldn’t hear it, she crept through the undergrowth and once she felt far enough away, began running back to Camelot with all the strength she had.

.

“Avalon!” Gaius said wildly once Merlin had finished telling of what she’d seen. “What you saw at the lake – it had to be Avalon!”

“Gaius, what’s-”

“The land of eternal youth.” Gaius said wistfully. “It is meant to be the last things mortals see before they die.”

“Forget that.” Merlin snapped, “Sophia and her father going to sacrifice Arthur so that she can return there. She doesn’t love him – she’s using him. They’re Sidhe, and I don’t even know what that _is-_ ”

“The Sidhe are masters of enchantment.” Gaius says, awkwardly. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear Merlin, but I know of no way to break a Sidhe spell, save death for either the caster or the victim.”

Merlin opened and closed her mouth before slumping into a seat. “You think that Arthur’s enchanted.”

“I think he has been enchanted  ever since he laid eyes upon her.” Gaius says, laying a hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“I’m almost relieved. At least he didn’t just...” _abandon me._

“We have bigger problems than that, right now.” Gaius said sagely, sitting down in the seat opposite to Merlin’s own. “Morgana’s dream is coming true.”

.

The next morning, at the assembly hall, Merlin noticed that for the first time in two days, Arthur was present. Merlin couldn’t help but look at him, even though she knew it would hurt.

_Only death can break a Sidhe’s spell,_ Gaius’ voice whispered in her ear, and she tried not to be disappointed when Arthur didn’t even glimpse her way.

When all the courtiers had arrived, and the morning’s chatter had died down, Arthur stepped forward: not as a member of the royal family, on one of the three thrones, but in the space a petitioner would fill.

“I request this audience, father, to discuss a matter of great importance.” Arthur began, and Merlin saw Sophia and Aulfric step out from the crowd to stand just behind him. Merlin heard her own pulse thumping in her ears as she looked at Sophia’s smug face. “It cannot have escaped your attention that myself and Lady Sophia Tirmawr have grown very close recently.”

Uther raised an eyebrow, perhaps unaware or simply uncaring of the highly strung emotions of the court. “Not too close, I hope.” He said, teasing.

Arthur took a breath. “We’re in love.”

Merlin tried, tried so hard to keep her face blank. Tried so hard not to care. Tried so, so hard not to let anyone see how with those three words Arthur had ripped out her heart and stomped on her soul. But they saw. They all saw. Even Uther.

The king cleared his throat, and Merlin forced herself to look down at the ground as the tears burned in her eyes. “Arthur, surely you acquiring another mistress is a private matter, not public.”

“I do not wish Sophia to be my mistress.” Arthur says, “I would not dishonour her so. I wish her to be my wife.”

Utter silence. Merlin couldn’t breathe. Of course. Why settle for being a mistress when you could be a princess?

The tense silence was broken by Uther’s laugh. Merlin’s head snapped up to look at the king clapping his hands together in mirth. “That was a good one, Arthur. You really had me for a moment.”

“I’m not joking.” Arthur said, “I am going to marry her.”

Uther looked at his son in utter confusion. “But you only met two days ago!”

“We’re in love.” The prince said again, and Merlin felt the first tear she had tried to keep from falling slither down her cheek, hot and salty and full of lost dreams.

“In love?” Uther scoffed, before turning to Morgana. “I had no idea he was such a romantic. Did you?”

“No. He’s full of surprises.” Uther’s ward gritted out, fury plain in every syllable of her sentence.

“I am going to marry her.” Arthur insisted, “I don’t care what either of you think about it.”

“I thought you’d come to ask my permission?” the king asked, a dangerous thread in his voice that Arthur somehow couldn’t hear.

“Out of courtesy, nothing more.”

Sophia smirked from behind him, and Merlin could imagine her whispering in his mind exactly what to say next. He wasn’t himself, Merlin forced herself to remember, he was enchanted.

Arthur reached out for her hand, and Sophia placed her palm in his as if she was a high lady and not just a thief. They turned, and began to walk towards the door.

“Guards, door.” Uther said, sounding almost bored. The guards stepped into position, drawing their swords. The king then stood up, and looked down upon his son. “You’ve forgotten whose court you’re standing in, boy.”

Arthur stepped towards his father, face a mask of fury. “You won’t stop me. If I want to marry her, then I will.”

Uther raise his eyebrows. “Arrest Sophia and Aulfric Tirmawr-” He said, and the guards once again moved to grasp ahold of the father and daughter.

“What are you doing?” Arthur demanded, his face contorted into an almost snarl.

“-and inform the executioner his services will be required tomorrow morning.” Uther continued, as if Arthur had not even spoken.

“You can’t do this!” Arthur gritted out, striding towards his father.

“Yes, I can” Uther reminded him, shouting, “and, unless you show me some respect, _I will!”_

Merlin curled her hands up into tight fists, and let her nails dig into her palms. She broke the skin in one place, and the pain gave her something other than the spectacle in front of her to focus on.

Arthur was silent, before looking down at the ground. Uther took his silence as acceptance. “Release them,” he commanded with a wave of his hand.

Uther looked hard at his son, and spoke quietly. “You have your whole life ahead of you, my son. So many chances and choices. I am telling you, this is the wrong one. Love is not everything.” Here, his eyes flickered to Merlin for a moment, and she felt all the blood drain from her face. “Do not let it destroy your life before you’ve even lived. Enjoy yourself, while you can.”

.

Merlin stands outside Arthur’s door, hand poised to knock but unable to make contact with the wood. She has to talk to him. She has to try.

Before she can think about what she’s doing, Merlin shoves the door open and steps inside. She freezes at the sight of Arthur, alone, and packing. He looks up for a moment, before turning back to his packing like it is the most interesting thing in the world.

“Get out.” He says shortly. Merlin thins her lips.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She says, hating the way her voice quivers.

“Just leave.” Arthur says, “I don’t want to look at you.”

“What have I done to incite such revulsion?” she asks, the heat of her anger keeping her voice even this time.

“You’re little better than a whore.” He snaps, “I was blind to see you as anything other than that before.”

“Before Sophia, I suppose.” Merlin observes, shutting the door behind her. “Strange how you met her two days ago and suddenly your opinions on me, your duty, your father and your kingdom have changed almost overnight. It’s unnatural, Arthur. You have to see that.”

“I ordered you to get out.” Arthur says, stopping folding clothes for a moment to glare at her. “Now leave me!”

“No.” She says simply. “You’re not yourself, Arthur. You’ve been enchanted. She doesn’t love you, Arthur. She’s going to kill you.”

“How dare you say such a thing about Sophia.” Arthur growls, “She is worth ten of you.”

“In the fact that she’s a Sidhe, an immortal creature, and her lifespan is well over the length of ten of mine then, yes, she is. She is also manipulative, murderous and deceiving you.”

Behind Merlin, the door opens. The telltale thump of the girl’s staff beside her identifies her before she even speaks.

“I told you people would try and keep us apart.” Sophia’s voice is sickly sweet, cloying like off-honey.

“I know,” Arthur says, no longer sparing Merlin even so much as a glance now that his lover, his captor, has entered the room. “I won’t let that happen.”

“Look, don’t listen to her. She’s controlling you.” Merlin told him furiously, and went forward to shake him into sense. Before she took two steps Sophia stepped between Merlin and the prince.

“We can elope.” Sophia said, addressing Arthur whilst her eyes never left Merlin’s. “We can get away from this place, these people.”

“I saw you.” Merlin hissed to Sophia. “I followed you. They’re going to sacrifice you, Arthur.”

“You let your whore speak to your guests this way?” Sophia says in a light tone, the bite in it hidden but deadly.

“I know what they’re going to do, Arthur. I followed her father to the lake and I heard everything. You have to believe me.” She looked beseechingly into Arthur’s eyes. He blinked heavily, once, twice, and stepped back from Sophia, for the first time in days, conflicted.

Sensing this, Sophia turned around and gripped Arthur’s chin tightly. “Don’t listen to her, Arthur. She wants to keep us apart. Let’s go. Let’s leave tonight.”

“She’s going to kill you.” Merlin told him, as his eyes flicked from Sophia to her. “Sophia is going to sacrifice you to regain a life of immortality. If you go with her, you’ll die. Don’t go, Arthur, stay with me-”

“But...” Arthur said, and both of the women froze from their war of words to look at the prince, “But it makes no sense. We- we’re in... love.”

“No.” Merlin says, “We are in love. Before this, remember how that felt? This isn’t love, Arthur. This is murder.” When Arthur still didn’t look convinced, Merlin pointed at the staff. “Arthur, look at the writing on the staff. She’s a magical being!”

Sophia’s eyes began to glow red. Merlin took two steps back. “Look at her eyes, Arthur. Please, don’t you see?”

“Yes,” Arthur says, and Merlin turns to see that his irises are the same scarlet colour. “I see everything.”

Merlin felt her heart drop down to her stomach. She stumbled back, looking for a way out. “Arthur.” She pleaded, but he advanced on her with Sophia. From the door, Aulfrid looked vicious. No way out. No way out.

Merlin finally made a run for her chamber door. Sophia’s staff ‘s emitted lightning that caught her right in the chest. She tried to scream, but no sound emerged.

And then, there was nought but darkness.

.

She woke to Gaius’ concerned face swimming before her vision. Merlin blinked, heavily, her head pounding as if someone was drumming. In her ears, a loud buzzing cut in and out as if inside her very mind.

“Slowly, slowly now,” Gaius told her as she struggled to her feet, “What happened to you?”

“Sophia.” Merlin panted, before lifting a hand gingerly to her throbbing head. “Where’s Arthur? I have to go after him. Can you hear that buzzing?”

“Careful, Merlin.” Gaius said as he allowed her to put her weight on his shoulder. “You can barely stand up. You’re in no condition to go after anyone.”

Merlin shook her head, before extracting her arm from Gaius. “I have to go.”

“You can’t,” Gaius said, sounding frustrated. Merlin couldn’t concentrate on his face, it kept on blurring and twisting. “You’re in no fit state to do so. Why, I think the only reason you survived this was thanks to your powers. You need rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin grumbled “he needs me.” She made her way toward the door, expending more energy than she had to spare on walking in a straight line so that Gaius would stop fussing.

“Has that buzzing stopped?” Gaius asked knowingly.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Merlin sighed, and turned around to face the physician, painfully aware that for every moment she spent explaining to him she wasn’t following Arthur’s trail. “I have to go, Gaius. He’ll die if I don’t.”

A silence, and then Gaius nodded wearily, perhaps sensing he couldn’t have stopped her from going. “The Sidhe are a vicious people,” he reminded her, “You must be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Merlin told him as she went for the door again, already having an idea of where Sophia and Aulfric would have taken the prince, “I know what I’m doing.”

Gaius’ disbelieving snort was the last thing she heard before she began running toward the lake.

.

Merlin arrived at the lake too late.

She had felt the wind picking up as she had ran through the forest, had gone as fast as she could, but when she arrived, Arthur was nowhere in sight. Sophia was partially submerged in the lake and Aulfric stood at the bank of the water, both hands raised as he chanted in the Old Tongue.

For half a moment, despair closed in on Merlin, before she saw his staff laying abandoned at the tree line. _Come,_ she asked it, but different words entirely came out of her mouth. The staff flew to her, as if longing for a companion.

_“Svilthe, gold beorb.”_ Merlin recited, and she saw one last flash of fear in Aulfric’s entirely red eyes as he turned around and saw her before a flash of lightning pushed itself out of the staff and into his stomach.

His mortal body turned to ash, along with one last scream.

Sophia, distracted by her father’s dying sound, turned in time to see his death. “Father!” she screamed, the sound full of grief and mourning so deep that Merlin shuddered. “No! No!” She abandoned her post and began to run back towards the shore, the water hampering her every movement.

She looked so much like a girl then, Merlin almost couldn’t do it. She wasn’t even looking at Merlin, her large, doll-like eyes being fixed on the spot where her father had been standing mere moments before. Tears ran freely down her flushed cheeks, as she howled in loss.

Merlin still did it though. Still said the words. Still aimed the staff.

“ _Oga ceoles_ ,” she whispered, but the staff knew her will. Sophia stood, frozen, as she saw her death coming for her, and let out one final sob as the light connected and she turned into nothing but dust.

Knowing there wasn’t a moment to spare, Merlin ran into the lake, the very currents that had slowed Sophia down now enacting the same on her. Arthur had to be somewhere in the lake. Morgana had dreamed he was underwater. He had to still be alive. He had to be.

Merlin had learned to swim when she was very small. She had never, however, attempted it fully clothed. Still, she took one last breath and plunged beneath the cold waves, and kicked.

She could see nothing. She opened her eyes and saw nothing but dirt, and the sand, and her own two hands. Merlin thrashed as her skirt threatened to drag her down, and propelled herself to the surface. Taking another breath, she sank down again, grasping for something, anything, _him._ But there was nothing.

For the second time, she surfaced. Fatigue began to weigh her down, her muscles aching and her dress so heavy. Her head pounded from the lack of oxygen. She looked around frantically as she struggled to take a breath, and by some miracle her eyes caught on a flash of something gold a few metres away.

It could have just been the light, or her mind playing tricks on her. But Merlin sprang after it, and ducked down for the third time.

Her own heartbeat pounded in her ears as her fingers closed on something – someone – solid. Arthur was heavy, much heavier than her, but in the water his dead weight was more manageable. She kicked frantically and pushed his head above water, unable to do the same for herself. Black dots appeared across her vision as she struggled to make it to the shallows.

In truth, Merlin doesn’t know how she got there. She remembers pushing Arthur away from her on a low sandbank, where he ground against the bottom before stilling. She remembers crawling on the rocks and stones and cutting her hands and knees. She remembers forcing herself to wrap her arms around Arthur _(even though they hurt, even though everything hurt, she was so tired, so tired, and she just wanted to sleep)_ and squeeze until he coughed up the water in his lungs, as she had seen her mother once do for Will. She remembers the blackness closing in as the water lapped at the sides of her face.

She remembers nothing else of the rescue, if it could even be called that.

Merlin wakes at night, the daylight having completely disappeared in what feels like seconds. Sand is caked to her cheeks and arms and legs, and it hurts so terribly when she makes herself get up. The water has receded down, as it has to be low tide. She finds Arthur as she had left him, face up on the bank, breathing but unconscious.

Her legs fail her twice as she makes herself walk over to him, and she can feel blood running down her legs from all the little cuts she has gained. Her arms feel as weak as straw, but she still manages to drag him completely out of the lake and out onto the grass.

Merlin knows she can’t carry him back. And she can’t levitate him either, as all of her magic appears to have deserted her after her body took such a beating as this one. The water stings at her eyes, and her head thumps, thumps, thumps.

“Help,” she tries to shout but it comes out as a whisper. “Help,” she rasps again, no louder than a breath. She begins to shiver in the cold night air and huddles closer to Arthur, hoping he is at least slightly warmer than she, but no luck.

Merlin doesn’t know how long she’s been there. She can’t leave him, she knows that. But she can’t take him either. So she has to stay, and if she dies here, then she’ll at least know she died for something.

Arthur’s skin beside her is waxy, and she hopelessly shakes him. _Wake up,_ she tries to say, but the words that come out of her mouth are wrong. “ _Seurgit_.” She whispers, and feels a small, tiny tendril of power release itself.

The prince’s eyes snap open, and he takes in a large gulp of air. “Wha-” he begins, looking around, before his eyes lock onto her face. “Merlin, where are we? What happened?”

“You tried to elope with Sophia.” Merlin finds herself saying through bloodless lips as Arthur sits up, holding his head. “She and Aulfric fled when they saw you were following. You fell into the lake when running and you must have hit your head because you didn’t surface, and your armour dragged you down. I had to get you out but we both almost drowned.”

Arthur looks horrified. “What was I _thinking?”_

Merlin tries to shrug but hisses in pain at the movement. Arthur seems to suddenly notice that she hasn’t moved. “How long have we been here?”

“You disappeared at dawn this morning.” She told him hoarsely, and let him draw his own conclusions from the fact they were at least a mile away from Camelot and it was night time.

“Why didn’t you go back?” he asked, crouching down to her level. At least he was recovered, Merlin told herself. “You must be freezing.” He seemed to say to himself, before touching her skin and recoiling.

“Merlin, you’re like ice.”

“I couldn’t leave you alone in case somebody came upon you and took advantage,” Merlin said, and for the first time realizing her teeth were chattering, “but I couldn’t carry you either. I was too weak, I’m so sorry. I can barely move.”

“Oh Merlin,” Arthur said, and looked like he was trying to say something but couldn’t find the words. “I feel alright, Merlin, so I’m going to try and lift you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah.” Merlin whispered, and felt her eyes closing again.

When he picked her up, Merlin let out a cry of pain against her will, before surrendering to the welcoming numbness of unconsciousness again.

.

Merlin wakes in a soft paradise.

The bed is like a cloud, the blankets piled on top of her thick and warm, and she feels like she could stay there together. She curls up and tries to fall back asleep, but can’t. Finally, she makes herself, pull back the covers, although it feels terrible.

Her feet connect with the stone floor of her chambers, and she realizes she’s home. She’s dressed in a thick, long-sleeved nightgown she has never seen before, and by the height of the sun in the sky as she looks through her window, it is just past noon.

Merlin pulls on her robe, and pads through to Arthur’s chambers. They’re empty, as she’d expected, but she feels a little sharp pain of loneliness. She had half expected him to have been by her bedside, but that was stupid.

The next place she goes is to Gaius’ chambers. She pulls on a dress, the warmest she can find, and wonders at how clean she is, considering when she was last awake she was filthy. She walks as if she is an old woman, her joints screaming in protest, and perhaps it is because of this that nobody stops or recognises her.

She lets herself into Gaius’ chambers, hearing the man’s voice as he spoke to someone else, something about healing and letting the body mend itself. Merlin needed to tell him what had happened at the lake, not the version of events she had told Arthur, but all thoughts of that disappear as she sees the prince and Gaius in what appears to be a heated argument.

Gaius’ eyebrows are pulled down so far over his eyes in a frown he looks like he has no eyes, and disapproval radiates from him. Arthur is, to Merlin’s delight, looking just like his old self, furious and with two pink spots of colour high on his cheeks. His mouth is pursed in anger, but the expression falls away when he catches sight of her.

“Merlin!” he shouts, and that is all the warning he gives before rushing to her and sweeping her off her feet in a hug so tight that muscles Merlin didn’t know she had ache, but it was worth the pain. Merlin embraces him back as hard as she can, and feels tears rising in her eyes with pure relief.

He was back. He was himself again. He loved her again.

When Arthur finally sets her down, he takes her face in his hands and looks at her. “You are so beautiful,” he finally says, “and I love you and I cannot ever apologise enough. I don’t know why I said the things I said or even spared Sophia a glance but I promise, promise from the bottom of my heart, that it will never happen again. I love you, and if you want nothing else to do with me after you almost died saving me then I will understand, but please give me another chance.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say to that, and opens her mouth to say so, when Gaius loudly clears his throat. Although they aren’t doing anything wrong, the two of them spring apart under his quailing gaze.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he says angrily, and begins herding her out of his rooms, “As I was saying to Arthur, you need rest, good food and warmth. You severely exerted yourself and were in the middling stages of hypothermia when you came back.”

“Sorry Gaius,” she mumbled as the physician hurried her back to her bed.

“You better be,” he muttered, “you could have died you foolish girl!”                                 

“But if I hadn’t gone then Arthur would have!”

“Arthur is not my concern.” Gaius says grumpily. “Although the king, you will be pleased to know, thinks that you are a hero and I have never seen the lady Morgana more relieved in all my years.”

With that knowledge, Merlin happily allowed herself to be put back to bed, smiling all the while.


	8. The Beginning of the End

A few weeks later, Merlin was walking down a corridor, going to find a new book after she’d consumed her old one in a matter of days when she heard a child’s shout. _Help me!_ The boy sounded young, and Merlin looked around frantically for the crying child, but there was no one in sight.

Nobody around her seemed to have heard anything at all.

 _Help me, please!_ The voice cried again. _Help me!_

Merlin took a breath, and turned around, walking towards where she felt in her gut the boy was, her magic leading her to him. She entered the square to a scene of pandemonium: guards were running everywhere, barking orders, people were scattering and confused.

 _They’re searching for me,_ the boy told her, afraid. She turned her head slowly and caught sight of the boy speaking to her in her mind – she didn’t know how she knew it was him, but she just did. He was sitting on stone ledge, and making himself very small whilst cradled his arm. He was dressed in a blue hooded cape, that was the same bright colour as his eyes. Her eyes snagged on his, and she had to make herself look away so as not to draw attention to him.

 _Why are they after you?_ Merlin asked as the guards began to rip apart stalls and carts. She walked closer to him, taking care not to go too slow or too fast and bring attention to herself, before positioning herself in front of him so that nobody else could spy him from the same vantage point as she had. _Don’t be afraid,_ she told him as his mental voice began to waver.

 _They’re going to kill me!_ He cried, terrified.

 _Be calm,_ she hushed him, _they’re looking for fear._

Slowly, she sunk down next to him and removed his hood, and untied his cloak. _No sudden movements,_ she reminded him as she removed it and tossed it behind the stone ledge so it wouldn’t be seen. Beneath it he was dressed in a plain tunic and baggy breeches.

The guards passed by them twice, and didn’t spare them a look. _I don’t understand,_ the boy said, _how can’t they see us?_

 _They’re looking for a boy in a cape alone._ Merlin explained, as she took his pale hands in hers to still his shaking. _Not a boy with his mother in a tunic. They see what they want to see._

 _You won’t let them hurt me?_ The boy asked, looking up beseechingly at her.

 _No._ Merlin said decisively. _They won’t touch you. Now get up, slowly. Not too fast, or they’ll wonder why we’re hurrying. Keep ahold of my hand and we’ll go into the castle, nice and slow. Don’t show your fear. Smile at me, if you want, or at the castle. Be invisible._

A small smile appeared on the boy’s face as they rose slowly, hand in hand, and walked into the castle. It was fake, and worry and fear were the two main emotions battering around in his brain, but Merlin smiled back. Once inside the castle, Merlin whispered to him, “When we turn round this next corner, we start to run. Follow me, and don’t look back.”

They turned into one of the servant’s corridors, which Merlin knew would be empty at this time of day as the servants would all be helping their masters and mistresses dress. They flew down the narrow passageway, and came out slap bang in front of Merlin’s chambers.

 _In here,_ she told the boy, trying to sound confident, and he followed immediately.

Only when Merlin had closed the door and bolted both it and the door leading to Arthur’s chambers did she allow herself to breathe. “It’s okay,” she said to the boy, kneeling down to his height, “it’s okay now.”

The boy nodded, mutely, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into a dead faint. Merlin barely managed to catch him before dragging him over to her bed and laying him down on the soft pillows. His injured arm was sluggishly bleeding and Merlin ripped off some cloth from her sheet to bandage it.

After staring at him for a minute, Merlin put her head in her hands and wondered how she managed to get herself into these kinds of situations. Seconds later, the bells began to ring.

.

About fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Merlin, after drawing the curtains around her bed, opened it.

“M’lady, I’m sorry to disturb you,” the guard said, and it took all of Merlin’s strength to arrange a smile on her face “but we have reason to believe there is a druid boy somewhere in the castle.”

Merlin frowned. “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen anyone all morning. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thank you, lady. Best keep the door locked until we find him.”

“Of course,” Merlin said, before slowly closing the door and bolting it. She then closed her eyes and rested it against the wood. That had been too close.

At the edge of her vision, Merlin saw the curtain move. She turned to see a small face peering out at her. _Are they gone?_ The boy asked anxiously, threads of pain from his arm coming through his speech.

 _Yes, they’re gone. Still, be very quiet. And if I tell you to hide, do it._ Merlin drew back the curtains and sat on the bed next to the boy. _Do you feel any better?_ She asked, before touching the boy’s forehead, which was burning hot.

 _My arm hurts,_ he told her quietly. _And I don’t know where Cerdan is._

 _Who is Cerdan?_ Merlin asked as she gently unwrapped the boy’s arm and assessed the wound. A long, ugly wound twisted down his forearm, and would almost certainly leave a long, ugly scar.

 _My teacher,_ the boy explained, _we came here together to get supplies for the camp. He’s like a father to me, because my own parents died. But then the bloodcloaks came and- ow!_

Merlin retracted her hand guiltily from the boy’s arm. He peered at the wound – or what had been the wound. Now there was only a thin, white scar that would soon disappear.

 _Sorry,_ she said, _but I didn’t know it would hurt._

The boy looked up at her with wonder in his wide blue eyes. _Cerdan said only powerful mages can cast healing spells on large wounds._

Merlin blushed. _It wasn’t that large, you’re just small._

 _Am not!_ The boy whined, and Merlin smiled. He seemed to be fine, just a little rattled. Now, she just had to find this Cerdan somehow and get them both out of Camelot without being discovered. Just another ordinary day.

 _Do you know how to get back to the camp?_ She asked the druid boy, who blinked once and then twice.

 _I- I can’t remember the way._ The boy’s melancholy was back. _Cerdan was the one who knew how to get home._

_Well, I’ll have to find Cerdan. What’s your name, so I can let him know you’re safe?_

The boy bit his lip. _Mordred._

 _My name’s Merlin. It’s very nice to meet you, Mordred. Can you stay here until I get back? Bolt the door behind me as I leave and if anyone tries to get in that isn’t me then hide in the false back of the wardrobe. Just like a game of hide and seek._ She walked over to it and showed him how to squeeze in. It was just big enough for him to fit inside along with her magic books and herbs.

 _How will I know it’s you?_ He asked, shifting.

_I’ll talk to you, in your mind, like this. I’ll say ‘it’s me, Merlin’ and you’ll know it’s safe to open the door._

Mordred nodded slowly. _You’ll come back?_

_Of course. I promise. Can you promise me you’ll hide in the wardrobe if anyone tries to get in?_

_Yes. I’ll be waiting, Emrys._

Merlin frowned. _That’s not my name._

For the first time, a true, mischevious smile lit up Mordred’s face. _Oh yes it is._

Merlin conceded the victory to him on account that they were running out of time, and slipped out the door, waiting until she heard the bolt slide back into place before she walked away. She had to find Cerdan, and had to do it quick.

.

Merlin was heading for the dungeons as the first place to look when she collided with someone. She looked up, and saw no other than Arthur, looking very annoyed.

“Oh. Hello.” He said, sighing and running an errand hand through his blond hair, before placing a chaste kiss on her lips absentmindedly, and to her other senses she felt his anger automatically lessen in her presence, overwhelmed by affection that still amazed her as it did not lessen over time but grow stronger. “My father’s being unreasonable. Again.”

Merlin resisted the urge to ask when Uther was reasonable.

“About what?” she asked, knowing that if she didn’t ask Arthur would wonder why she was hurrying away, despite how desperate she was to find Cerdan and end the whole sorry mess.

“A druid was caught after a tip off by a trader who sold him supplies.” Arthur explained, and Merlin felt herself stiffen and tried consciously to relax, “My father, being my father, wants him to be executed for being a druid and daring set foot in Camelot. He meant no harm, I’m sure of it. And that’s not the worst of it. He was travelling with a boy, and father has sent out the guards after him too. Barely a ten year old, by the sounds of it. As if a mere boy could be a threat to anyone. It’s awful.”

“Awful,” Merlin echoed, mind racing. Cerdan was to be executed. There was no time to lose. “When is the druid set to be executed?”

Arthur pinched his lips together. Indecision and guilt both shone in his blue eyes. “Ten minutes.”

Merlin felt the blood rush out of her face. “Why so soon?”

“Father wants to make an example.” Arthur said, looking away. “He wants to show that sorcerers will not be tolerated nor shown any mercy.”

“Excuse me,” Merlin said, stepping away, “I just remembered I have to go do something.” She couldn’t think up a proper excuse, but Arthur in his conflicted state accepted it wordlessly.  

Guilt was flush against her senses of him as he watched her walk away, and not for the first time she felt frustrated over it. He had apologized a hundred times over for everything that he said and did whilst under Sophia’s spell, but he refused to excuse himself even though Merlin had done so almost immediately.

 _Mordred,_ she called the boy, _I am almost to the room. When you hear three raps on the door, it is me._

 _Something’s wrong,_ the boy called back anxiously, _there are people gathering outside._

For the execution, Merlin knew. She never understood how people enjoy the spectacle, like it was a day out to the theatre. She knocked on the door thrice, and Mordred unbolted the door to let her in. She bolted it shut behind her and immediately fell to her knees in front of Mordred.

“Can you speak to Cerdan the way you did to me?” Merlin asks.

Mordred nibbled his lip, sensing how serious she was. _I can try_ was his hesitant reply. He closed his eyes and flung out a thought: _CERDAN,_ he projected so loudly it echoed around Merlin’s brain.

A mumbling returned – Cerdan was not strong in the mindarts, but he knew his name or perhaps just the boy reaching for him. Merlin chased after the thread to the man, and latched ahold of his mind.

 _Are you Cerdan?_ She asks, listening intently to the silence. Mordred looked confused but stayed silent, in both reality and her mind.

 _I... Cerdan... are you... Mordred... son..._ The druid’s voice was faint and barely louder than a whisper, even though Merlin was putting all her strength into listening. But she still understood the gist of it.

_Cerdan, Mordred is with me. My name is Merlin. I swear he’s safe with me._

_...guards... execute...Uther...afraid..._

_I know,_ Merlin told him, and tried to send along her grief at his fate. _It will be soon. I have to get Mordred back to the druids. In case I cannot release you, where are they? Think loudly. As loud as you can._

_Essetir...forests...kingswood...Essetir...kingswood...Foerain...forest...Essetir..._

Cerdan’s attempts to get the location through to her came in flashes of words and pictures, the man realizing he had to repeat himself so that she caught the entire message. A mossy knoll. An abandoned castle, once known as Foerain. In the kingswood of that ruin was where the druid camp stayed.

_Thank you. I will bring Mordred there if you cannot do so._

Despair welled from the other end of the link. _Don’t... Mordred... tell... afraid...think...strong..._

“Your father is very brave,” she tells Mordred, and she means every word. “He loves you very much and is thinking of you.”

Tears rise in the boy’s bright blue eyes. _Please tell him I love him, Emrys._ The boy begging makes her heart bleed as she sees the executioner walking onto the platform, sharpening his axe. Merlin makes sure Mordred has his back to the window.

_Mordred wants you to know he loves you. Please, Cerdan, where are you? Perhaps I can help still._

The thought was the clearest one that Cerdan had sent so far, perhaps because of the desperation behind it. _Stay...Mordred...protect...shield..._

 _Always._ Merlin swore. And then she saw through Cerdan’s eyes for a moment: _his hands in irons, a sword at his back, the world so dank and dark and so unlike his home, his son was safe, she had to keep his son safe and save him from this fate-_

Then, Merlin was herself again and the link between herself and Cerdan was broken. She groped out blindly for him, but felt nothing except Mordred.

 _Did you tell him?_ Mordred asks, as if sensing there is something terribly wrong.

Merlin nodded, and pulled him close for a hug. “He loves you so much, Mordred. Never forget that.”

Behind Mordred, and through the window, Merlin saw the boy’s father ascending the scaffold. The boy went to pull away from the hug but Merlin held onto him. “Please,” she says, voice thick, “I need you to be strong and comfort me.”

 _Why are you sad?_ The boy asked, but did as she bid him, snuggling his face into her neck.

Merlin couldn’t make herself reply and instead stroked his fine dark hair. She heard Uther make his usual speech about the evils of magic, and Cerdan calling up to him bravely – so bravely, especially because he was so afraid – about fear and hate and pity. None of the words made sense.

As the axe fell, Merlin tensed and closed her eyes. Mordred felt the life of his father slip away, and screamed inside his mind. Merlin felt rather than saw her mirror shatter into a thousand places. He tried to get away, tried to run and see, but Merlin held on tight until Cerdan’s remains were taken away and out of sight.

“Daddy,” he whimpered, and Merlin realized it was the first time she had heard him speak aloud, “Daddy, please. Daddy, don’t leave me.”

But he already had.

.

She spends the better part of an hour comforting Mordred as he cries. _Will he never come back?_ He asked, reverting back to mind-speak after what Merlin suspected was a panic attack had passed.

Merlin bit her lip, and kissed the silky black hair covering his forehead. _Never._

_It’s not fair._

_I know._

Merlin opens her mouth, to try and say something about Cerdan waiting in Avalon, as she remembered dimly that was where the druids believed they went after death. But before she can, there’s a sharp rap at the door and she freezes.

“Who is it?” she calls as she hurries Mordred to the wardrobe, and opens the false back for him to hop in.

“It’s me,” Arthur’s voice says through the wood.

“You’re don’t usually come and see me this early,” Merlin says, grasping for an excuse why she doesn’t let him in straight away, “so I just need to get some clothes on.” _Don’t make a sound,_ she reminds Mordred as she slides the false back into place and closes the door, _no matter what you hear._

_Emrys, I’m frightened._

_Fear is a superpower. It makes you strong and fast._

“You don’t have to get dressed.” Arthur says, as Merlin unlatches the door and swings it open. The prince stands there, cherry red.

“Too late.” She quips.

Arthur groans half-heartedly and steps inside. “Oh well. This isn’t a social call, anyway, I’m sorry to say. We’re searching the castle for the druid boy as the guards have had no look in the town.”

“Of course.” She says, smiling tightly. “Why are you the only one here? I thought the knights were joining the effort.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her as he crouched to look under her bed. “I’m not letting them tear your room apart. This is for my eyes only.”

“And George’s.” She reminds him that the manservant cleans her room too as it is technically part of Arthur’s chambers.

Arthur lets out an ungracious grunt, before getting to his feet. “He doesn’t count.”

“So, do you think the druid boy is in the castle?” she asks abruptly as he approaches the wardrobe. _Don’t move a muscle. Don’t breathe too loud. Stop breathing if you can for a little bit. Be as still as you can be._

Arthur shrugs, “He’s a young boy. He could be anywhere. Still, I doubt he’s still in Camelot. Somebody would have seen him by now if he was. It’s not like we’re bursting full of children around here. A lone boy would draw attention.”

He pulls open the wardrobe, and his eyes pop open. For a moment, Merlin feels her heart stop.

“How many dresses do you have?” he asks incredulously.

Merlin rearranges her face into an expression of thought. “I’m not sure. The seamstresses keep on making them for dinners, and Morgana gifts me her old ones. I don’t think I’ve worn all of them.”

 _Emrys, I’m afraid. Don’t let him come any closer._ Mordred’s plea tugs at the strings of her heart, and Merlin steps forward to place her hands on Arthur’s chest. “Which is your favourite?” she asks.

Arthur swallows. “Why?”

“You’ll see.” She promises, even though she has no idea herself at that moment in time.

Arthur thinks for a moment, and then points at a piece of cornflower blue fabric. Merlin pulls out the gown in question, and shuts the wardrobe doors. Arthur doesn’t protest.

 _You’re okay,_ she tells Mordred, _stay quiet. He’s not looking in there anymore._

When Merlin looks at the dress, she laughs. It is one of her old ones, from before she had seamstresses clamouring to dress her. It is in fact the first one that she bought in Camelot: the flower seller’s dress that she had hemmed herself and worn at the feast where she was made Arthur’s mistress.

“Why this one?” she asks, frowning. “I have prettier ones.”

“This one,” Arthur tells her, “was the first dress I saw you in. I remember when I caught sight of you, that annoying girl from the town who had dressed as a boy, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Merlin opens and closes her mouth, but can’t find any words. “I... don’t know what to say to that.”

Arthur shrugs and steps closer, his arms winding around her waist, the movement as natural for the two as them as breathing. “Don’t say anything.”

The kiss is tender, and Merlin feels herself melt, before dropping the dress in a puddle on the floor. After a moment, her fingers touch the cool metal of the keys to the secret exit through the armoury and without a second thought she pulls them away from him, before hovering them away to her bed and making them go under the pillow. She has a feeling that she’ll need them before the day is through. That task done with, she redirects her attention to the pressing matter at hand.

 _Are you kissing him?_ Mordred’s voice echoed around her mind. _That’s gross!_

Finally Arthur pulls himself away and Merlin surfaces for air.

“I should be going,” he says, “They’ll wonder where I am.”

“I’ll be waiting for you tonight,” Merlin promised him as she released him, and then stood on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “in that dress. Nothing but that dress.”

Arthur swallowed, hard.

“I should- um-” he half tripped out the door, and Merlin smiled at him fondly before closing it and locking it again, and thumping her head against the wood.

 _You can come out now,_ she told Mordred, who stepped out of the wardrobe seconds later.

 _Why’d you do that?_ He whined, feeling put out that he’d had to hear the exchange, even if he’d been spared from seeing it.

_I needed a distraction._

Mordred just rolled his eyes.

.

Merlin’s plan to smuggle Mordred out of the castle is simple. Kind of.

She had discovered that the guards were checking all the people going out of the castle and upper town, so the main entrances were out. Luckily, Merlin knew of another way out of the castle through the armoury, the keys to which she had already ‘borrowed’ from Arthur. Although she disliked going anywhere near that place after Valiant had assaulted her, needs must. If Arthur noticed the keys were gone he’d realize her plan immediately, but Merlin was counting on him being his usual unobservant self.

The place that Cerdan had described was about three hours away on foot, and Merlin thought that she could get there and back in plenty of time with the help of a horse so she could slip back into the castle before nightfall, and before anyone suspected anything.

So, she somehow got Mordred through the castle without raising suspicions, into the armoury with Arthur’s stolen keys, out through the stables where she was going to steal a horse, and her and Mordred then were to ride hard through the lower town and out of Camelot to the druid’s camp. In broad daylight.

Okay, it wasn’t that simple. But it was the best plan she had.

Merlin decides the best time to try and get out is during lunch. All the personal servants will be bringing their masters food, the castle servants will be eating and so will the nobles.

 _I don’t like this,_ Mordred told her nervously.

 _It’ll be fine,_ Merlin said, trying to inject as much cheeriness and confidence into her mental-voice as she possibly could. By the way that Mordred’s mouth tugged down at the edges, he wasn’t convinced.

In truth, Merlin couldn’t the blame for his lack of faith. There were too many ways the plan could go wrong and only one scenario wherein it went right.

Mordred’s hand was slick and sweaty as Merlin clasped it in her own and let the door creak open. Poking her head out, Merlin breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the corridor was empty.

 _Quickly now,_ she told Mordred, and the two of them walked fast down the corridors. They made it to the Griffin Staircase without any problems, before Merlin heard footsteps approaching.

Without explanation, Merlin pulled Mordred behind a pillar. _Don’t move._ She held her breath, hoping against hope that whoever it was didn’t look around.

The footsteps walked right past them, and when Merlin couldn’t hear them anymore, she let out a sigh of relief. _Almost there,_ she comforted Mordred, whose eyes were round and afraid.

When Merlin caught sight of the door to the armoury, she could have cried in relief. The walk had taken less than ten minutes, but she had been on edge for every second of it, and it had felt like a lifetime.

They scampered in and Merlin closed the door to prevent anyone looking in and seeing them. Mordred looked around worriedly. _I can’t see a door,_ he said with a shake in his mental-voice, belying his fear.

 _It’s fine, it’s just behind that big shield,_ Merlin told him, pointing to the end of the hallway. She walked over to it and began to pull it aside to reveal the door, when a sword point poked at the small of her back. Shit. Fuck. Balls.

Merlin froze.

 _Emrys!_ Mordred cried in fear.

“Turn around slowly,” a familiar voice said, and Merlin did so. She turned to face Lancelot, who dropped his sword and fighting stance when he saw who it was. “Merlin?” he said, before sighing, “I should have known you’d be mixed up in this somehow.”

“I, um, just wanted to come and look at the swords. It’s Arthur’s birthday soon and-”

“It’s Arthur’s birthday in two months.” Lancelot reminded her, raising an eyebrow. “Plus, that doesn’t explain why you have the druid boy with you.”

“Druid boy?” Merlin said, pulling Mordred closer to her. “No, this is Mordred. He’s my cousin. Came to visit. Ealdor born and bred. Follows me around all the time, it’s a bit annoying really, but he’s very sweet and likes to come and...” Merlin trailed off.

Lancelot sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Did anyone other than me see you?”

Merlin shook her head.

“Good. I’m not turning you in, Merlin. I’m going with you.”

A beat. “You’re what?” she said incredulously.

“Merlin, I’ve been looking for him all day. Not to turn him in, but to get him out. I was beginning to think that he’d gotten out on his own, but no such luck.” He looked at her accusingly then, as if she should have gone to him right away.

_Emrys, I think he’s going to help. I can feel it._

Merlin wasn’t surprised he could. Lancelot was quite possibly the best person that Merlin knew: it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that he’d be emitting said goodness like a beacon.

“Okay,” she said, making her decision. “I need to get him to the druid camp; I won’t tell you where until we’re on the road. Can you grab us two horses?”

Lancelot nods. “On it. I have two, actually, so no need to steal them.”

“Oh, look at you, Lord Lancelot with your own horses now.” Merlin teased as she turned around to continue pulling back the shield and reveal the small exit. “This leads to the lower town’s stables.” She explained to Lancelot. “Can you meet us there?”

“Yes, of course. We need to get going soon, though. Lunch is almost over and all the servants will come out with the leftovers.”

“I know.” Merlin said hurriedly as she fitted the stolen keys into the lock and turned it. “Oh, and, could you drop these somewhere in the castle as you’re going to the stables? It’ll make Arthur think they fell off his belt instead of...”

“Instead of you taking them.” Lancelot said, humour in his voice. “I can do that.”

“Great.” Merlin said as she lifted Mordred up and helped him into the small tunnel. “See you in a minute.”

Lancelot nodded and went to turn, when Merlin caught his arm. “You’re a good man, Lancelot. I appreciate this.”

“Anyone would do it.” He said, smiling.

Merlin shook her head. “No, they wouldn’t. Thank you.”

She gave his hand one last squeeze before climbing into the tunnel. Lancelot closed the door on them, and they were plunged into darkness.

 _Emrys, I can’t see._ Mordred said worriedly.

With a thought, Merlin conjured a ball of light that turned serenely before them, lighting up their faces and the way forward. _There you go,_ Merlin said, _now go as fast as you can._

Mordred didn’t need telling twice.

.

They arrived at the stables before Lancelot, tumbling out from the end of the passageway into a bed of straw. Merlin stood up to see a stableboy staring at them, open mouthed at their sudden appearance.

 _“Somniare suatviar.”_ She whispered, and he fell into the stall he had just finished mucking out, asleep.

 _Where is sir knight?_ Mordred asked her. As if the thought had summoned him, Lancelot jogged into sight, and sighed in relief when he saw them.

“I have the horses at the entrance.” He told them, and then looked at the stableboy’s legs peeking out of the stall in askance.

“He’s fell asleep on the job.” Merlin said, shrugging. Lancelot’s face broke out into a mischevious smile.

Merlin shared her horse with Mordred, who was immediately at home on the saddle. “Her name’s Blossom,” Lancelot said as he helped Mordred mount up behind Merlin.

 _Not it’s not,_ Mordred said stubbornly as he petted the horse’s side, _her name is Alfred and she wants you to respect her life choices._

.

Alfred, or Blossom, depending on which of Merlin’s companions you asked, was either way an exceptional horse. They arrived at the ruins of Foerain at mid afternoon as the sun was beginning to dip in the sky, and Alfred still seemed ready for another trip whilst her companion went gratefully to the water that Lancelot led her to.

“I can see why the druids would like it here,” Lancelot said as he scratched behind his tired horse’s ears, “it feels...tranquil.”

Merlin nodded, having no words for the atmosphere of the place that made her feel very small and yet very strong all at once. She turned to Mordred, who seemed happier than he had all day, which was unsurprising now that he was away from people who wanted him dead.

 _Good girl, Alfred,_ he said, feeding the horse a sugar cube that Merlin had made for him, _very good girl._

 _Mordred,_ Merlin called to him, _where is the camp from here?_

Mordred frowned at her as if she had asked a very stupid question. _Everywhere._

_What do you mean-_

Merlin had not finished her thought when the first druid melted out from the trees. Dressed in simple tunics and long capes with pointed hoods, they seemed to appear from nowhere as they appeared from the surrounding wood.

Lancelot had backed away from his horse, holding his hands up in surrender as the numbers grew. Merlin swallowed, realizing that whilst everyone said the druids were peaceful, they had the numbers not to be.

An older man stepped forth from the ranks, and spread his arms. Mordred sprung towards him, and the man’s face broke from an indifferent look to a wide smile.

“There you are!” he cried, lifting the boy up and letting him wrap his legs around him, “We were worried sick! Especially after we felt Cerdan’s death, why we thought the worst! And yet here you are, safe and sound, my good, brave boy.”

Mordred leaned forward, and whispered something in the man’s ear. His eyes widened and he set Mordred down. For a moment, no one moved but then he walked forward before Merlin, and in one smooth movement, went down on one knee.

“Emrys,” he said, reverently. Murmurs spread throughout the crowd. Merlin went pink.

“I prefer Merlin.” she told him honestly. He didn’t move, though, and soon the other druids too were bending down and lowering their heads to her, like she was somebody. The only one who didn’t was Mordred, who was beaming at her happily.

 _What did you say to him?_ She asked, confused.

_I told him who you were._

“Merlin,” Lancelot hissed, “what’s happening?”

“A homecoming.” The older man said, straightening up. All the other druids followed his lead, and a moment later it was as if nothing had happened. “Emrys, my name is Iseldir, and it is my honour to receive you.”

“As I am honoured to meet you.” Merlin said, curtseying. “I am glad Mordred is home again. I could not save Cerdan, and for that I apologise.”

“Cerdan is pleased to know that his son is home, where he belongs. Those in Avalon see all.” The old man looked her over speculatively, smiling. “But you do not care for this old man’s tales. You must hurry back to Camelot.”

Merlin could not conceal her surprise. “Yes, we must.”

“The druids will always welcome you, Emrys.” And with a final bow of his head, Iseldir turned. This was the signal for something, for the druids once again disappeared into the forest, as if they had never been there. Mordred flung his arms around her middle one last time, before taking Iseldir’s hand.

_We’ll meet again, Emrys._

The little boy sounded so sure that Merlin allowed herself to believe it was true. _I hope so._

And then they were gone, and she was alone with Lancelot.

“So,” he said after a moment, raising his eyebrows, “you’re a pretty big deal around here.”

Merlin stuck out her tongue at him, and laughed. Together, they set off for Camelot, both feeling as if a burden had been lifted from them, but neither really being able to put their finger on what it was.


	9. Excalibur

Merlin’s legs had begun going dead she had been standing so long in the Hall of Ceremonies waiting for Arthur’s ceremony to be over. Whilst she was proud of him for being named the Crown Prince of Camelot officially, he had only survived to this point because of her in the first place.

Honestly, she had no idea how he had avoided all the various assassination attempts before she came along.

“Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the statutes, customs and laws laid down by your forebears?” Uther said grandly, for once wearing his ceremonial crown instead of his plain gold band, pride infused in every word he spoke.

“I do, Sire.” Arthur said clearly, and Gwen hit Merlin’s arm excitedly, grinning widely.

“Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgements?” Merlin considered the irony of Uther saying that statement with a completely straight face as Arthur nodded.

“I do, Sire.”

“And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?”

At this condition, Merlin perked up, knowing they were getting to the end of the ceremony after having practiced the lines of it with Arthur for what felt like a thousand times.

“I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of the kingdom and its peoples.” Arthur voice didn’t stutter or stumble over the words, and Uther smiled down at his son in fondness.

“Now being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth, you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot.”

The crowd burst into applause as Arthur stood – rather stiffly, Merlin noticed, as he’d been on his knees for quite a while now – and turned to the court. His eyes met Merlin, and he beamed at her.

“So how does it feel to be mistress to the Crown Prince?” Gwen asked, bumping her hip to Merlin’s as they clapped.

“Much the same as it did being mistress to the prince, funnily enough.” Merlin snarked back.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You don’t fool me for a moment. You’re proud of him, really. It’s written all over your face.”

“Lies and slander.” Merlin deadpanned.

The maid laughed, and went to retort, but then she – and the rest of the court – was distracted by some idiot crashing through the stained glass window. “Holy mother of fuck!” somebody screamed, and Merlin realized it was her after a moment.

Merlin’s rather unladylike cursing was thankfully drowned out by the cries of horror from the nobles and the sound of the knights, including Arthur, drawing their swords. The horseman slowed down, and Merlin saw that he was wearing battered black armour that gave no clue to their identity.

Smart, she had to admit. That window wasn’t cheap and if Uther knew their identity he’d make them pay for it.

“What in the devil’s name?” Uther growled, probably louder than he meant to, standing up and scowling so hard that Merlin half expected lightning and thunder outside to complete the picture of complete and utter fury that Uther was exuding.

The Black Knight’s horse trotted to Arthur, and threw down a black gauntlet. Merlin’s eyes widened as Arthur sheathed his sword to pick it up and accept the knight’s challenge.

 _Don’t do it, you idiot,_ she felt like screaming, and as if the gods themselves had answered her wish, another knight reached the gauntlet first.

“I, Sir Owain, accept your challenge.” The knight said, although he was more a boy than a knight, and looked hungry for glory as he stared into the Black Knight’s emotionless helmet.

“Single combat. Noon tomorrow. Till the death.” The Black Knight’s voice was low and grating, and his horse turned before galloping out of the hall, the cobblestones clopping beneath its hooves. 

Merlin began to pick some shards of stained glass out of her hair as everyone looked at one another, unsure of what to think or say. Uther did not offer a solution, but instead just stared after the knight with a dazed look in his eyes.

.

“He shouldn’t have picked up the gauntlet!” Arthur had been quiet all the way back to his chambers, and Merlin and George both flinched at the unexpected outburst.

Merlin shrugged “So, put an end to it. You can do that, can’t you?”

Arthur shook his head and sat down with an angry thump on his bed. “The challenge has been taken up. The fight cannot be stopped. Gods, Owain is not ready for this. He was only knighted a week ago, dammit!”

Merlin searched for a solution but found none. Surprisingly, it was George who spoke up. “Sire, can’t you fight in his place? If the fight truly cannot be stopped?”

“I can’t.” Arthur said, wringing his hands together.

Merlin frowned. She had thought George’s suggestion had merit, though she had thought of another, more experienced knight fighting, not Arthur. “Why not?” she challenged.

Arthur sighed. “Owain picked up the gauntlet. Owain, therefore, is the one who must fight. That’s the Knight’s Code. He knew that.”

“But it’s a fight to the death!” Merlin exclaimed, to Arthur’s weary shrug.

“I know,” he said, “but Owain accepted the challenge. It is in the hands of the gods now.”

She began pacing in frustration. “I’m really getting fed up of this Knight’s Code bullshit.”

Arthur and George looked at her with equally shocked expressions painting their faces.

“What?” she said, “It can’t be worth a man’s life. Especially not one so young – isn’t Owain getting married soon, anyway?”

“It is worth a man’s honour,” Arthur explained, “which many see as worth more than a man’s life.”

“Fucking hell.” Merlin groaned, before putting her head in her hands.

George looked at her with eyes as round as saucers. “I will, um, go and get some tea.”

“Great idea.” Arthur said quickly, giving the manservant an escape route. When George was gone, he turned to Merlin and pulled her into a hug. “What’s this all about, huh?” he asked “You don’t even know Owain that well.”

“I saw you.” She said, voice quavering, “You were going to pick up the gauntlet.”

Arthur’s eyes closed for a moment. “He was coming to challenge me.”

“And if you had gotten there before Owain, you’d be the one about to fight to the death with the Black Knight.”

“Do you doubt my skills?” he teased, trying to bring lightness back to the conversation, but he couldn’t.

“No,” she sighed, “but we don’t know if he’s better than you. Better than Owain. He clearly thinks he is, if he’s willing to challenge a room full of the greatest fighters in the realm to a fight to the death.”

Arthur had nothing to say to that, and pulled her towards him as she began to cry softly.

“It’ll be alright,” Arthur promised, “I swear. Owain will defeat the knight, and everything will go back to normal.”

Merlin hated herself for thinking that that may be a promise he couldn’t keep.

.

The next morning, Arthur and Merlin went with George as Arthur had lent his manservant to Owain. Merlin thought perhaps it was out of guilt, but said nothing.

Owain looked both afraid and excited. Merlin felt as if she herself had sent the boy off to his death for sport as he talked to Arthur was hope so painful that she had to turn away at one point and pretend to see something out the window so neither of them saw her tears.

“You’ve never fought in mortal combat before,” Arthur was saying seriously, perhaps trying to ram home to Owain the seriousness of today’s fight, “It’s different. It’s not like the training I’ve been giving you. There are no second chances.”

“Yeah, I know.” Owain said, as if Arthur was lecturing him needlessly.

“Listen to me.” Arthur snapped, before sighing out and regulating his tone as Owain focused on him with wide eyes. “The problem is, we’ve never seen him fight. You have to quickly get the measure of him.”

“But I have the same advantage,” Owain reminded Arthur, “he’s never seen me fight either.”

“True.” Arthur reluctantly conceded.

“You’ve watched me,” Owain said. “You know what I can do. What do you think?”

“I think...” Arthur struggled for words, but Owain didn’t seem to notice his hesitation, “I think there is no one braver. Remember, all it takes to kill a man is one well-aimed blow.”

Before Owain could say anything in reply, the door opened and Gwen came in and curtseyed. Her eyes were suspiciously red. “The lady Morgana asked I give you this token,” she said, holding out a ribbon that Merlin had seen in Morgana’s hair many times, “She wishes you to wear it for luck.”

Owain smiled, and took the ribbon before tying it around his wrist. “You can thank her, and tell her I shall wear it with pride. But I won’t need luck.”

And with those final, overconfident words, Owain strode out onto the battlefield to the delight of the spectators. Merlin and Arthur’s eyes met, both knowing the truth of what was about to happen, but neither wanting to admit it.

“He’s going to be fine,” Merlin said, haltingly.

Arthur nodded sharply, relieved she had been the one to tell the lie. All together, the sombre procession made its way to the stands.

.

“Let battle commence!” Arthur called, before sitting down beside Merlin, his eyes fixed to the fight.

Owain was immediately forced into the defensive, the Black Knight’s blows coming hard and fast, the young knight being led backwards as his shield took multiple hard hits.

The Black Knight was a bigger man than Owain – bigger, stronger, and more experienced. He lifted up his greatsword with ease and brought it down several times, Owain just managed to stop it hitting his helm by blocking with his shield.

Arthur’s hand squeezed Merlin’s own so tightly he cut off circulation, but Merlin couldn’t find it in herself to care. The prince’s lips were white with concern, his eyes following every movement of the fight.

Merlin blinked, and Owain’s luck ran out as the Black Knight caught him around the side of the head, causing him to stumble back. For one terrible moment, Merlin thought he would fall, and then it would all be over, but he managed to stay on his feet.

“Come on,” she whispered, seeing a trickle of blood coming out of Owain’s helmet.

The two swords met in the centre, slicing and kissing one another, the whole thing looking like some kind of brutal dance. When the Black Knight brought his sword up to catch Owain in the shoulder, the younger knight ran backwards, perhaps realizing he needed to be sneaky.

A small semblance of hope swallowed Merlin’s fear for the moment, as he led the Black Knight around with feints of weakness and open points.

“One well-aimed blow, Owain!” Arthur yelled, his voice almost drowned out by the rest of the crowd’s baying for blood. Owain seemed to hear though, and he ducked the Black Knight’s shield and his sword pierced the other man’s gut.

“Yes!” Merlin cried, as Owain stepped back. The other man stood for a moment, and Merlin was certain he would collapse to the ground, but instead, he took a step forward as if Owain hadn’t just dealt him a mortal would.

Merlin felt the smile melt off of her face like butter.

Owain was as shocked as she was, his eyes widening in the slits of his helmet, and from thereon he was fighting an uphill battle. The Black Knight forced him back, back again, battering at him until he fell to the floor. The man raised his greatsword, and skewered the young knight on it with one thrust.

Arthur put his head in his hands as Morgana’s token fluttered to the floor.

The Black Knight turned and walked away from Owain’s corpse to stand in front of Uther, and tugged off his glove. “Who will take up my challenge?”

Arthur’s head snapped up, a look of pure fury written all over his face, and both Merlin and Uther moved as one to hold him back from leaping over the spectator stands and picking up the gauntlet that the Black Knight had dropped on the floor. He looked at them angrily, but by then Sir Pellinor had done what Arthur had wished to and picked up the gauntlet to avenge Owain.

“I, Sir Pellinor, take up the challenge.” The man said with his chin raised, a defiant glint in his eye, and Merlin saw Gwen put her head in her hands in despair.

“So be it.” The Black Knight said in his gravelly voice, before he rotated his helmet to stare at Uther. He said nothing, and Merlin knew logically that she should be able to see his eyes, but there was nothing there. Only a void.

As he passed by her to walk out of the battleground, a coldness settled deep into her bones. Merlin shivered as Arthur shook her and Uther’s hands away, unable to tear her eyes away from the knight.

.

Arthur had been simmering with anger all the way back to the castle, and Merlin had went to leave when the rest of the nobles had done so but Arthur had motioned her to stay with such anger in his eyes that Merlin didn’t dare disobey in case he regarded it as another betrayal. And so it was the three of them, the king of Camelot, the Crown Prince, and a sorceress came to Arthur’s chambers, and Arthur duly exploded.

“Why’d you stop me?” He shouted angrily at the both of them.

“We have to give our knights the chance to fight,” Uther said, at the same time Merlin protested: “He’s invincible!”

Both Uther and Arthur stared at her, and she coloured.

“Owain landed a hit,” she said, her jaw clenching, “you saw that as well as I did. He got him right in the gut. He should be dead right now, we both know it. Owain’s sword was covered in blood. But he isn’t. He didn’t even ask for a healer. He cannot be killed, Arthur, and if you go against him you’ll die.”

Uther let out a breath, and turned to her. Merlin quailed slightly under the king’s searching gaze. “You are sure that Owain hit him?”

Merlin swallowed, and nodded. “Certain, sire.”

“I saw it too,” Arthur said, his anger appearing to have been drained out of him, “I thought it was just wishful thinking, that I imagined it.”

“Owain couldn’t have won.” Merlin says slowly, feeling the king’s eyes burning on his back, “and I don’t think Pellinor can either. And neither could you.”

“You think this knight is a sorcerer?” Arthur said, but at that Uther shook his head.

“No,” the king said, “I know exactly who he is. He is no sorcerer.”

Arthur frowned at his father. “Who is he, then?”

Uther sighed. “This does not go any further than this room.” He said with a glare. Merlin and Arthur both nodded. “I have reason to believe he is Tristan de Bois. He wears his sigil: both myself and Gaius have consulted with Geoffrey.”

“Wraith?” Merlin question.

“de Bois?” Arthur said, louder. “My mother’s house?”

“Your mother’s brother.” Uther said. The room fell into silence at the revelation.

“I thought he was dead.” Arthur said into the stillness.

Uther clenched his teeth, and looked hard at Merlin. She received the message, loud and clear, and went to leave but Arthur caught her wrist. “No,” he said sharply, “you’re staying.”

“Arthur,” Uther said quietly, “I know you are fond of this girl but this is not the time-”

“This is exactly the time.” Arthur insisted.

Uther looked at the two of them for one long moment, before nodding his assent. Merlin looked at Arthur with wide eyes, trying to ask if he was trying to get her killed, but he paid no attention.

“Tristan de Bois is dead.” Uther continued.

“How can this be him, then?” Arthur asked, “Dead men do not return.”

“Not on their own.” Uther said darkly. “But a powerful sorcerer can revive them, and create a wraith. A creature already dead who can walk among the living, powered by hate. No mortal weapon can hurt it.”

“That’s why he wasn’t hurt,” Merlin says slowly, “he’s already dead. He can’t die twice.”

“I killed him last time,” Uther said, “after... your mother died.”

Arthur went very still, and Merlin squeezed his hand in hers.

“He was angry, he blamed me. Tristan always was a hotheaded man. He challenged me to single combat outside the walls of Camelot, and I was honour bound to accept. I beat him, but with his dying breath he swore Camelot would one day suffer his return.”

“Sir Pellinor can’t fight him.” Merlin said, shaking her head, “He’ll die.”

“I will take his place,” Arthur said.

“No!” Uther and Merlin shouted together, looking at one another warily after they had done so.

“He is after me.” Arthur said. “I am the one who he came to in the Hall of Ceremonies. I am the one who caused my mother’s death.”

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said fiercely, “women die in childbirth. It is not the child’s fault. It is nature. Nobody is to blame.”

But she knew that was a lie. What was it Gaius had told her about, all those months ago, when she had first arrived in Camelot? The conversation came back to her in bits and pieces: _Arthur was conceived by magic although his mother was barren... magic was the reason that Ygraine died, and also why Arthur lives... a spell to give life but the Old Religion is all about balance... a mother’s life for a son..._

Behind her, Uther shifted uneasily but said nothing.

“We cannot let Pellinor face a man who cannot be beaten.” Arthur said, “And I don’t think he’ll stop until he gets what he wants. Which is me.”

 “Stop this nonsense, Arthur. You will not take Pellinor’s place, and that is final.” Uther snapped. “That is all we can do now. He picked up the gauntlet, and is honour bound to go through with the challenge.”

“We can’t just let him die!” Arthur shouted.

“Pellinor is more than a match for Tristan de Bois,” Uther said, “and we could be wrong. I could be wrong.”

“But you know you’re not.” Merlin said, begging. “Please, let us go to Sir Pellinor. Tell him of what we know. His life is worth more than this. He almost died at Othanden, and his wife is pregnant. They’ve been trying for years for a child, you know this. Please, don’t let him die for nothing-”

“Silence!” Uther roared. Merlin’s jaw snapped shut and she took a step back. “Get out.” He said quietly, and Merlin all but ran out the room, hearing Arthur’s protestations following her as she left.

.

Merlin didn’t know where she was going until she was halfway to the dragon.

Her legs burned and tears were pouring down her cheeks, and she lost Arthur who was running after her by ducking into servant’s corridors he’d know nothing of. Merlin ran and ran, and skidded to a halt on the ledge inside the Great Dragon’s cavern, almost going over the edge.

“Merlin!” the Great Dragon exclaimed at her arrival.

“Do you know why I’m here?” she cried up to the great beast of legend.

The dragon laughed at her, grating noises from inside it’s reptilian throat hurting her ears. “It may surprise you Merlin, but I am not omniscient.”

“There’s a wraith challenging people. One knight has already died and another will die tomorrow, and they’re going to their deaths because of this stupid Knight’s Code! No mortal weapon can kill it, and I need to find out how to kill it before Sir Pellinor dies tomorrow! And Arthur’s talking about challenging it and sacrificing himself to get it all to stop, and I don’t know what to do!” Merlin took a deep, shuddering breath, and her head span.

“The dead do not return without reason.” The great dragon said, frowning. “Has it come for Arthur in particular?”

“Arthur thinks so. It is his mother’s brother, you see-”

“Agravaine?” The dragon mused. “He always was rather confrontational.”

Merlin frowned. “No, no. I’ve never heard of him. It’s Tristan.”

“Tristan? Oh, I see. Tristan de Bois is not here for Arthur, Merlin.”

“Then who-” Merlin didn’t even finish her sentence before she knew the answer. “Uther.”

“Let the wraith take his vengeance,” The Great Dragon said, “and he will die without my interference.”

“But Uther isn’t going to fight him, right now Sir Pellinor is! Pellinor is a good man, he doesn’t deserve to die like this. He has a child on the way, and he and his mistress have waited so long.”

The dragon shook his great head adamantly. “A weapon forged by my breath would have great power. Young witch, if you knew what you asked of me, you wouldn’t.”

“What do you want?” Merlin said, and felt tears coming to her eyes as she got down on her knees, hands clasped together. The dragon recoiled from the image of submission. “I’ll give you what you want, just please do this for me. Please, you know there are no other dragons. You know you are the last of your kind. Without you, Pellinor and Arthur are lost, and Camelot with them.”

The Great Dragon considered her impassioned plea for a moment. “Swear on your magic that you will keep your end of the bargain. Swear no other than Arthur or this... Pellinor shall wield it. Swear it shall never come into Uther’s hands. Swear it, and I will create an immortal sword for you.”

Merlin could have wept, then.

“I, Merlin of Ealdor, do swear on my magic that I shall do whatever The Great Dragon asks of me if he makes an burnishes a sword with his breath and makes it an immortal blade.”

The dragon smiled, it’s craggy face spreading grotesquely. “Fetch a sword, Merlin. Quickly now.”

Merlin didn’t need telling twice.

.

She reached Gwen’s at sunset, and knew she looked an absolute mess as she banged on the door of Gwen’s cottage.  The door opened a crack , and Merlin saw her friend’s brown eyes widened before the door swung open fully.

“Merlin!” Gwen exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I need a favour.” Merlin said, “A weird one.”

“How weird?”

“Pretty weird.”

“What do you need?”

Merlin sighed, thanking the gods for Gwen’s generous nature. “A sword.”

“A sword?” Gwen said, surprised.

“The strongest one your father’s ever made.” Merlin begged.

“What do you want a sword for?” Gwen asked, incredulous. “Last time I checked you could barely lift one of the things.”

“It’s not for me,” she said, “It’s for Pellinor. To help him beat the Black Knight.”

Gwen rolled her eyes, and hurried her in. “Trust you to get in the thick of things, as usual.”

.

Merlin levitates the sword before the Great Dragon, who looks at it speculatively. “It is strong.” He comments, before taking a breath in. Merlin automatically lifts her shield, but the dragon does not cover it in flame, but instead burnishes it with a breath.

The swords gleams as if made of diamond, and the blade looks as sharp as a shaving razor.

“This is Excalibur,” The Great Dragon tells her as the sword comes back to her. “The sword of heroes and kings.”

“It has a name?” Merlin blurted out before she said anything else, before colouring. “I mean, thank you.”

“Everything has a true name, child. Even the rocks and blades of grass. Yours is Emrys.”

That was what Mordred and the druids had called her. _Emrys._ She liked it. “What is your true name?” she asked, overcome with curiosity.

“Kilgarrah.” He told her, smiling his rocky smile.

“Kilgarrah,” she tested out his true name on her tongue, “what is the favour you wish of me?”

The Great Dragon smiles enigmatically at her. “You’ll see. Now, go. And heed my words: none with an evil heart can wield Excalibur.”

Pellinor certainly didn’t have an evil heart, Merlin though running up the steps. He had adopted five orphans in the past three years from the streets, and the man loved _kittens_. Nobody who loved kittens could be dark hearted.

.

Merlin’s plan went slightly wrong the second she walked into Pellinor’s chamber to find the knight snoring heavily, with Arthur sitting by his bedside. Arthur looked up and dropped a vial of brown liquid on the floor that broke. Pellinor didn’t stir.

“Arthur,” she says as he scrambles to get the bits of broken glass off the cobblestones, “please tell me you haven’t drugged Sir Pellinor.”

The prince swallowed. “I haven’t drugged Sir Pellinor.” He said, but his voice rang with guilt.

“You idiot!” she said as he straightened up. “What’d you do that for?”

“I was thinking of what you said,” he explained “about him and his wife. And they’re really excited about having a child of their own after all their adoptees, and I promised her than I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him after what happened at Othanden. So, I’ve decided I’ll be taking his place. I knew if I told him he’d reject it and so I couldn’t see any other way-”

“You,” she said, pointing at him, “are so damn lucky that I’m prepared for this kind of bullshit.”

Arthur frowned as he noticed the sword in her hand. “What’s that for?”

“Well it was for Pellinor,” she says, before holding it out towards him hilt first, “but now it appears it’s for you.”

Arthur took it, with trepidation, before his eyes widened. “The balance is perfect.” He said, looking at the sword in rapture. “Where did you get it?”

“Gwen’s father made it.” She said, “It’s name is Excalibur.”

“Excalibur. _Take me up, cast me away_.” Arthur read the inscription on either side of the blade, before his smile slid off his face. “If I should go down fighting, Merlin, then I want you to know-”

“None of that.” Merlin snapped. “You’re not going down, because you’re going to kill the wraith.”

“Merlin, you know that no mortal weapon-”

“That is no mortal weapon.” Merlin told him sharply.

“Merlin,” he said urgently after a moment of processing her words, reaching out to touch her arm, “what did you do?”

Merlin shrugged him off, looking down at the ground, feeling far too much like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar for comfort. “I doesn’t matter.”

“ _Mer_ lin.”

“It’s just as stupid as what you did to Pellinor.” She defends.

“Merlin, where on earth did you get a sword that can _kill the dead_?” Arthur’s last few words had an edge of hysteria in them. “I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”

“I went to the dragon.” She spat out the words before she could regret them.

Arthur froze. “You went to the _dragon?_ The dragon in the caves? The last dragon? _That_ dragon?”

“What other dragon is there?” she asked, spreading her arms wide. “Yes, I went to the dragon. Because in the old stories they talk of swords that can kill anything, burnished in a dragon’s breath. And as we conveniently had a dragon beneath the castle I thought-”

Arthur groaned. “Who cares about what you _thought,_ Merlin, all they’re going to care about is what you _did_. You talked to the dragon. You somehow convinced the dragon to burnish a sword in its bloody breath.” He ran a shaking hand through his gold hair, “Am I the only one you’ve told about this?”

“Yes, but Arthur it’s not that bad-”

“You don’t understand!” he said in a harsh whisper. “My father has had people killed for trying to speak to the dragon. He said they were trying to free it-”

“Him. His name is Kilgarrah.”

“Just great.” He said, putting his head in his hands, “You know his name. Hey, you’re old pals!”

“Arthur, you’re being stupid. All he wanted was a favour.”

“What was the favour?” Arthur asked, head snapping up.

Merlin shrugged. “He said he’d tell me when the time was right, I don’t know.”

“Just when I thought this could not get any worse,” Arthur said grumpily, “you owe him a favour. What if that favour is to come and kill me in my sleep?”

“Well then I wouldn’t do it.” She said, rolling her eyes. “This is a problem for another day. Please, Arthur, it’s almost dawn. Have you slept yet?”

“This isn’t over,” he said stubbornly, before shaking his head.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said, “and you can kill your crazy dead uncle in the morning with an immortal sword that your best friend in the whole world got you.”

Arthur sighed, before nodding. He was exhausted. “Leon’s gonna be pissed you stole his position in my heart.” He said, clutching dramatically at his chest.

“Leon’s going to have to suck it up and move over.”

.

The next day when Arthur arrives at noon instead of Pellinor, and announces he’ll be taking the other knight’s place, nobody is surprised. They had all heard the screaming match between the prince and his father when the king had learned of his son’s last minute plan, the way that Pellinor had fallen to a strange sleeping sickness and that the prince was confident of his victory in a way no one else was.

Well, almost no one.

Merlin stood pensively at the side of the tournament ring, for once wearing her hair unbound so it’s shining, blue-black strands could be fully appreciated by the prince. He smiled as wide as a sunrise when he saw her, and patted his arm where the ribbon she usually used to bind her long, midnight black mane of hair was tied snugly around his forearm.

The drums were pounding long and slow, and Merlin made herself breathe normally as she went to sit by Morgana and Gwen.

In the royal box, Uther’s face was as white as snow.

Arthur stretched, readying himself as the drums grew louder. “I believe in you,” Merlin whispered to him, but of course, he couldn’t hear.

Suddenly, the drums stopped, and the swords met in mid-air with a loud clash of steel meeting steel.

Merlin jumped at the noise, and Morgana gripped onto her hand, the lady’s knuckles clenched tightly around Merlin’s limb. Arthur was the best warrior in Camelot, Merlin reminded herself, he would beat him.

Unlike with Owain, the men were of the same size, build and strength – the blows were wide, arcing ones, the smoothness of the actions as fast and as beautiful as lightning. They spun around the tourney ground like dancers, but Merlin could never forget exactly what rested on this particular fight.

Arthur stepped back from a swing that would have taken his guts out. Tristan side-stepped a cut that would have had his leg off. At that point, Merlin’s eyes wandered and she saw a familiar face in the crowd.

Cara, the serving girl. But not really. This was the sorceress who poisoned her. And this was the same woman who must have sent the sickness to Camelot and had summoned Tristan de Bois from the dead.

Merlin felt her heart turn to stone, as she stood up sharply, letting go of Morgana’s hand and began to make her way around the stands. The clashing of the fight continued, but Merlin made herself believe that Arthur didn’t need her help, as she had a task of her own.

The woman was smirking widely, as if this was all she had ever wanted, and Merlin desired nothing more in that moment than to wipe the smug grin off of her face. She didn’t know what she’d do once she got there. She didn’t care. She pushed past discontented spectators as she grew ever closer, and when she was ten feet away, the sorceress noticed her.

Her pretty blue eyes went round as she saw Merlin’s black look, and how close she was. She glanced desperately at the fight as the crowd began to scream and cheer and get to their feet to clap – Merlin looked to see Arthur standing over an empty suit of armour as the crowd applauded his victory.

When Merlin turned back to where the sorceress had been sitting, she was gone. As if she was never there at all.

.

The day after, when all the excitement had died down, and Merlin was still asleep in Arthur’s bed, the prince went down to the dragon’s cavern.

He carried the sword with him, and a torch, and nothing else. He had to do this alone. Nobody could know he was down here, let alone the reason.

“Young Pendragon,” a loud voice greeted him. Arthur jumped.

The dragon was utterly colossal. Green and gold with nostrils as big as a man’s head, the huge scaled monster was larger than any creature he had ever seen before. Arthur swallowed, and tried not to be too cowed.

“Kilgarrah,” he said, as loud as he possibly could, aware that at any moment the dragon could roast him for lunch, “I have come to you about a bargain you struck.”

“With Merlin?” The dragon asked, grinning widely with its sharp yellow teeth all on display.

“Yes.” Arthur said, his voice threatening to break. He cleared his throat. “She did not know what she was entering into. She was trying to save my life.”

“She appears to have succeeded.” The Great Dragon said, “You are still alive.”

“I am.” Arthur said, bowing his head, “And I know that is thanks to you. I come to ask to take on her debt to you, as it was in aid of me that she struck the deal in the first place.”

The dragon laughed. The sound seemed completely foreign to it’s grating vocal chords, and yet it was clearly laughter.

“Oh, young Pendragon, I see why she likes you.” He said when he had finally finished laughing, “But her debt is hers alone. I think you see why this must be, with your very own Knight’s Code.”

Arthur opened his mouth, and closed it. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you,” he began, “but please. I lo- I care deeply for her. If you will not transfer the debt, please consider what you ask her to do before you ask it. If she gets sentenced to death then I’ll-”

“Come after me?” the dragon questioned, “Kill me? What worse could you do to me other than what already has been done? No, young Pendragon, I will not ask her to do anything. I have changed my mind. The debt can be yours.”

Arthur let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you-”

“Do not thank me, boy.” Kilgarrah rumbled, “Because the debt is not your own, you owe two favours. If you reject this offer, then Merlin will owe two favours.”

“I accept.” Arthur said, hollowly. “What is it you would have me do?”

“Your first task is simple.” The dragon told him, “Take that sword far from here. Hide it where no mortal can ever find it. Tell only Merlin where you place it. Nobody can know of it’s location but the two of you: tell not your friends, your father, your lovers. Do you understand?”

With difficulty, Arthur nodded. “I do.”

And with that, he walked away, shaking. Arthur wondered when he had decided that he would do anything for Merlin.

.

The Lake of Avalon was a place of austere beauty. Arthur had never wanted to return there, but he knew this was the right place. He felt it calling to him, like a song he had heard once, a very long time ago.

"Goodbye, Excalibur." he said to the sword, before throwing it into the deep lake as far as he could. 

The sword made no sound as it slipped beneath the waves. It would not rust, Arthur knew, nor go blunt or get lost. He didn't know how he knew this. He just did.

 _Cast me away,_ he remembered the writing on the sword saying as he began the trek back to the castle,  _take me up._


	10. The Moment of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter murdered me. It's been a whole week since I updated, and the delay is because of IRL problems and the fact that I had no fucking clue how to write Will. In compensation for the wait, this chapter is 11K in length.

Merlin is coming back from the market with Garth on a bright, windy day when she sees her mother for the first time in over eight months, bending over a well to take a sip of water. She stops dead, even as she feels a smile light up her face.

“Merlin? Are you alright?” Garth says, his only reply being Merlin dropping the bolts of wool and silk she had gotten for the dressmakers into his already full arms, and running over to Hunith.

“Mother!” she cried excitedly, half launching herself at the surprised woman, who only manages to prepare herself a split second before impact. Merlin wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and breathed in her scent, which still smelled like the home Merlin remembered and had not quite stopped being homesick for.

“Oh, my darling,” Hunith said as she staggered slightly under the coltish girl’s enthusiastic embrace, “how you’ve grown!”

It was true. Merlin was eating better in Camelot than she ever could have dreamed of  back in Ealdor, where the harvests were rarely good enough to feed everyone properly, and game was as scarce as proper hunters.

“Mother, I have so much to tell you-” Merlin began as she pulled away from her mother, before forgetting what she was going to say. Hunith’s face – the side Merlin hadn’t seen – was mottled with a huge, purple and blue bruise that puffed up around her eye. “Mother? What happened? Who did this to you?”

Hunith sighed, and stroked her child’s concerned face. This would not be an easy tale to tell.

“This is not a social visit, sweetheart.” Hunith said softly, “I have come to petition the king.”

“About what?” Merlin asked, confused and afraid at her mother’s battered appearance.

“Ealdor is in trouble, Merlin.” Hunith said, choosing her words carefully, “We are being raided.”

Merlin face pinched. “Kanen?”  she asked, her voice full of hate, but she already knew the answer.

“Kanen.” Hunith confirmed. An understanding passed between the two women that Garth, who was still staggering beneath his and Merlin’s purchases from market, couldn’t comprehend.

Merlin took her mother’s rough hands in her own. “I will get you an audience with Uther. I swear it.”

Hunith smiled fondly at her daughter. “That’s my good girl.”

Merlin beamed.

.

Hunith stepped foward before the king, twisting her hands together in nervousness. Merlin stood behind her, full of pride as her mother who had never met anyone of more import than a knight passing through their village spoke clearly and passionately before the king of Camelot.

“The winters are harsh in Ealdor,” Hunith told the assembly, “and there are many children. Some of them just won’t be strong enough to survive. We barely have enough food as it is, and if Kanen takes our harvest then our children will not live to see another summer. Please, we need your help.” She petitioned Uther sincerely, and Merlin felt a flood of pride at her mother’s composure and assertion.

Uther sighed. Merlin had noticed he had sat up, interested, at the mention of children. A lot of children. Ealdor was on the very edge of Camelot, just falling into the jurisdiction of Aesctir, where Cenred ruled. The curse on Camelot, Merlin knew, was still a mysterious thing that not many understood. But it had borders, that Ealdor sat outside of, and as such, had more children than they could afford to feed. Merlin had known that starvation herself many a winter.

“Ealdor is in Cenred’s kingdom,” Uther said, with reluctance, “your safety is his responsibility.”

“We’ve appealed to our king,” Hunith says desperately, taking a step towards the king, “but he cares little for the outlying regions. You’re our only hope.”

“I have the deepest sympathy for you and would have this barbarian wiped off the earth-” Uther began, but Merlin could already hear the ‘but’ at the end of the sentence. Her mother could not.

“You’ll help us?” she said, eyes full of hope. For the first time, Merlin realized how out of place her wonderful, beautiful, honest mother was in this court: with her mottled skin, callused hands and ragged clothes, and her sweet countenance.  She wanted to run forward from where she stood at Gaius’ side and take her in her arms: then Merlin wondered when she had seen it as her duty to look after her mother, and not the other way around.

“I wish I could.” Uther said, with genuine regret in his voice. Merlin wondered how much it must frustrate him that a village full of children was out of his grasp, in the lands of Cenred who had so many children to hand that he could afford to just let them die.

At his father’s ruling, Arthur, who until then had stood silently at the king’s side, eyes fixed on Merlin’s mother as he searched for his mistress in this peasant woman’s face and voice, turned his head in question to Uther’s decision. “Surely we could spare a few men?” Arthur said, and Merlin’s heart soared in love for him.

“Resources are not the problem.” Uther said as he leaned back.

“Then what is?” The question came from Morgana who stood with Gwen, her back as straight as a rod and her voice like ice. Her friends, Merlin realized, were true ones.

“Ealdor lies beyond the ridge of Aesctir,” Uther said, “and no matter how close it is to the border, if an army of Camelot entered it would be an act of war.”

Merlin swallowed hard, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw her mother was down on her knees at Uther’s feet. The king looked as surprised as the rest of the court, and Merlin took a few steps forward before Gaius caught her arm and stopped her with a quelling look.

“I know you are a good king, a caring man,” Hunith begged, her hands clasped in her lap as they would be in prayer. And in that moment, despite her rough clothes and sun-hardened skin and black eye, Merlin thought her mother looked completely regal, even as she went down on her knees like a supplicant. “I’m begging you. Help us, please.” On the last word, her voice broke and no force on earth could have stopped Merlin going to her mother at that moment, and helping her to her feet. Hunith rose slowly, and gracefully, and met the king’s eyes with her own blue ones straight on even as they filled with unshed tears.

Uther shifted uncomfortably. “The accord with Cenred was years in the making,” he said, “I cannot risk hundreds of lives for the sake of one village. I am afraid that Camelot cannot help.”

Hunith closed her eyes, and a single tear fell down her mottled cheek. Uther looked away as Merlin took her mother’s hand in her own, and squeezed it gently, trying to convey that everything would be alright, but she had no idea how it could be.

Slowly, Merlin led her mother out of the hall, hatred for Uther flaring up in her heart no matter how much logic backed his decision.

.

Once Merlin and Gaius had calmed her mother down and sent her into a brief sleep so Gaius could better treat her wounds and give her rest, Merlin knew where she had to go, and where Arthur would be waiting.

Arthur had once told her that he went to the battlements to think, as they gave such a wide view over everything that it made all his problems seem small.

Merlin felt small as she walked over to him as he leaned over the edge to see nearly all of Camelot splayed out before him. “I’m sorry,” he said as she went to stand next to him “if it were up to me we’d be on our way there now. I wish Camelot was able to help people regardless of how far away they lived.”

At that, Merlin could help but smile at the loyalty the prince had shown to her in that one statement. “I know. Thank you. For getting the audience with the king in the first place.”

She lay her hand out on the wall, and Arthur’s own hand covered it completely as he gently lifted it to his lips. “You’re going, aren’t you?” he asked, and Merlin wondered when she had allowed him to get to know her so well.

“Yes.” She said, hollowly. It was the right thing to do, she knew it. But it hurt so much more than she had ever dreamed it could.

“You’ll be coming back?” Arthur asked, his voice incredibly vulnerable as he asked the question.

Merlin hated herself as she shrugged. “She’s my mother. I have to look after her before anyone else.” _Even you_ went unsaid, but Arthur seemed to hear it all the same _._ “Do you understand?”

Arthur swallowed as he looked away. “All too well. I’d do exactly the same.”

Merlin opened her mouth, and closed it. _This is not goodbye,_ she wanted to say, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t have the last thing she said to him be a lie.

“No matter what happens,” Arthur finally said, “I will always-”

Merlin’s eyes filled with tears and she placed a hand over his mouth before he could say the final words.

“Let’s not.” She says, hoarsely. “That feels too much like farewell.”

Arthur nodded as she took her hands away from his lips. For a moment, all was still. Then-

“Oh fuck it,” Arthur swore, and pulled her close to him, “I love you.”

Merlin smiles into the kiss, and tries not to think about how this may be the last time.

.

Merlin was finishing packing in her chambers – she was abandoning her dresses, deciding to leave them for Arthur’s next mistress (the thought made her heart turn to stone) whomever she may be – and instead shoving in ointments, healing tonics and small daggers wherever she could.

Gwen, who had volunteered to help her, stared for a moment at her friend’s bag which was quickly becoming little more than a pile of bric-a-brac contained in a travel pack. “How far is Ealdor again?” she asked with concern.

Merlin looked up from her method of shove-it-all-in packing to see the almost constipated expression on her friend’s face. “Two days,” she said, “it’s not that far.” At Gwen’s unconvinced look, she rolled her eyes. “I have made the journey before,” she reminded her friend.

“I’ve put some armour for you in here,” Gwen said, holding up another carry bag, the size of which made Merlin’s eyes bulge.

Merlin looked at her petite friend in askance. “I’m not going to be able to carry that.” She said worriedly.

“You won’t have to.” Merlin spun around to see Morgana enter the room, not in her usual satin or silk gowns, but instead in a corseted tunic and a pair of breeches, her long hair for once bound away from her face. Behind her a man entered in the colours of Camelot, and for a moment Merlin’s heart lept, thinking it was Arthur. Instead, Lancelot smiled at her gently.

“We’re coming with you.” He told her, the sides of his eyes crinkling.

Merlin opened and closed her mouth, looking from the lady to the maid to the lord who all wore the same stubborn expression. “You’re- what?”

“You’re going to need all the help you can get.” Gwen reminded her, “I’m a blacksmith’s daughter. I know how to mend armour and sharpen swords.”

“And myself and Lancelot know how to fight.” Morgana added, fingering the pommel of a fine looking sword at her hip.

“And I’ve had experience with raiders before.” Lancelot said, lifting his chin.

“Why would you do this for me?” she asked, eyes filling up. She was crying far more than normal today and it was getting rather annoying.

“You’d do it for us.” Morgana said.

“You already have.” Gwen said, “You saved my life. I said I wouldn’t forget that.”

“What are friends for, after all?” Lancelot added with a grin.

And well, there was only one response to that.

Merlin dragged all three of them into a crushing hug as she blinked back tears. She had the best friends in the world.

.

She, Morgana, Gwen, Lancelot and her mother made quicker progress than they ever had before on the road to Ealdor, as Morgana had managed to acquire some horses from the stablemaster for the maid and villagers, a luxury neither Hunith nor Merlin had ever experienced before on the usually hard journey.

And so, by the time they reached a camping spot, they were three-quarters of the way to the village. It had still be a long ride, however, and the other three were all asleep before long, Hunith having volunteered herself and Merlin for first watch.

“They shouldn’t be here,” her mother said to her in a low voice, “especially the Lady Morgana. Isn’t she the king’s ward?”

Merlin nodded shallowly, before looking at Morgana’s sleeping form with fondness. “Not that you’d know it,” she said, “she’s the only person I know who isn’t frightened of anything or anyone.”

“You know it won’t make any difference to Kanen whether or not his victims are women,” she said, “it never made any difference before.”

“I know.” Merlin said, remembering her last encounter with the man – _c’mon lovely, c’mon, don’t be a bitch, just be good, just be still-_ “But I couldn’t talk them out of coming. And I didn’t want to say too much with Lancelot there. He’s a true knight, mother. Like the ones in your stories.”

At that, Hunith said nothing. In the firelight her bruise was fading, and Merlin lifted up her hand to trace it gently. “I’m going to make him pay for what he did to you.” She swears.

At that, fear entered Hunith’s eyes. Fear for her, Merlin realized after a moment. “Promise me you’ll be careful.” She asked, stroking a hand through Merlin’s long dark hair. “No one can find out about you. No one.”

“They won’t.” Merlin says, a pang of guilt hitting her as she says so. Lancelot knows, but telling her mother that would do little more than send her into a panic. The knight slept quietly, looking younger in sleep than he did in daytime.

Hunith smiled at her, and kissed the crown of her head. “Get some rest,” she said, and Merlin nodded sleepily, her tiredness making her easily pliable.

She curled up near the the ashes of the fire, and soon fell into unconsciousness.

.

Merlin woke up in the middle of the night, cold under her threadbare blanket. For a moment she stared up at the full moon and didn’t understand why.

Then she heard the hooves.

She sat bolt upright, the dewy ground springing beneath her weight as the hoof beats grew closer. Merlin scrambled to her feet, and grabbed Lancelot’s sword from where it was laying next to him.

Merlin could hear her own heart beating in her chest as she stepped just outside of camp, her eyes roving all over the blackness of the forest. Suddenly, the hooves stopped. There was nothing.

She went to take another step forward when a swordpoint touched her back. Merlin froze as still as a statue.

“I’d ask you for money, but I know you don’t have any.” The familiar voice came from behind her.

“Arthur!” she cried, swinging around. The prince ducked sharply as her clumsiness with the sword almost separated his head from his shoulders.

“Put the sword down before you hurt yourself,” Arthur said, reaching out for it. Merlin surrendered it easily, grinning at the prince. Under her gaze, Arthur blushed. “I couldn’t very well let you go off and fight bandits all by yourself,” he defended himself, “it’d be bad for my image.”

They walked back to the camp as quietly as they could, careful not to wake the others. Merlin stoked the fire and Arthur took a seat beside her. “How much further is it?” he asked, warming his palms.

Merlin shrugged. “A couple more hours, if that. We made good progress.”

“And how many men does this Kanen have?” Arthur questioned, and Merlin forced herself not to shudder at the name.

“I’m not sure, but from what my mother’s said, as many as forty.”

Arthur nodded pensively, staring out into the dark. “We should get some rest, it’ll be a long day tomorrow.” he finally said, and went over to her bedroll. Merlin’s eyes widened.

“What are you doing?” she whispered harshly.

“...going to sleep?” Arthur said, as if he was unsure of the answer. “Come on, Merlin.”

“My mother.” Merlin hissed, “She doesn’t know about what- you know- we are. She thinks I’m just your servant.”

Arthur frowned. “And you haven’t told her?”

“How could I?” Merlin asked wildly. Lancelot stirred and they both froze. The knight, however, just turned over and settled back down again.

“Just say it!” Arthur hissed at her.

“Then she’d have to know about the curse,” she whispered, “and how you’re trying to get me pregnant without marrying me.” Arthur opened his mouth but she silenced him with a swipe at the air. “I know it’s different, I do, but she’s pretty passionate about it. I’m a bastard, Arthur, my father disappeared. She never wanted that for me. How can I explain it to her without her going mad?”

“You’re afraid to tell your mother about me because of your absent father?” Arthur whisper shouted with wide eyes. “Just tell her!”

“No!” Merlin cried too loud, and slapped a hand over her mouth. Nobody woke, however, and she and Arthur both let out a breath of relief. “I can’t,” she said quieter, “I don’t know how to start.”

“Okay, okay,” Arthur said, holding his hands up, “but she’ll have to know at some point.”

“I know,” Merlin hissed as he got off her bedroll and inched closer to the fire. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur smiled at her fondly, the fire reflecting in his eyes. “Only you.” He said to himself, before wriggling to find a comfortable position on the ground. Guiltily, Merlin got onto her bedroll.

“Arthur,” she whispered a few seconds later.

“What?” Arthur groaned.

“Thank you for coming.”

There was no response to that other than the pleased smile on Arthur’s face that Merlin couldn’t see.

.

“Merlin,” Hunith said sweetly as the party, now of six, approached the ridge of Aesctir. Merlin swallowed, knowing what was coming. “Why is the prince of Camelot here?”

“He wanted to help?”

“Merlin.”

“We’re friends.” Merlin said, trying to sound sure of herself, “He was moved by what you said to Uther. He wanted to help, like Morgana and Gwen and Lancelot.”

All true, Merlin comforted herself. It was just half of the truth. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” Hunith said knowingly, as if reading her mind.

Merlin sighed. “Yes,” she said, frankly, “but this isn’t the time. Can you trust me, this once?”

Hunith’s lips turned into a thin line. “I’ve been trusting you for a long time. I trust you know what you’re doing. But if you don’t-”

“I’ll come to you.” Merlin promises.

Hunith nods shallowly, and smiles weakly at her. “Good girl.”

Merlin forces herself to smile back, and tries not to think about how false it feels.

.

They’re almost at Ealdor when they hear the fighting.

“Kanen’s here,” Arthur growls, and gestures to Lancelot. The two men’s horses break into gallops, and Merlin’s quickly does the same. She enters her home for the first time in eight months to see it being torn apart.

The raiders are everywhere, and for a moment she is frozen, unable to comprehend the amount of damage Kanen has inflicted. Mother had told her how bad it was, and still, she had somehow been unable to believe it until she saw it.

Merlin was shaken out of her reverie as Kanen roared: “kill them!”

She gripped the hilt of the sword she’d been given by Gwen and volted off of her horse, somehow managing to land on her feet. She staggered a little, and then the first bandit came. He was a bald man, big and heavy and ugly, but the lessons Arthur had given Merlin since she had arrived in Camelot allowed her to fight back with more resistance than the bandit had assumed.

 _They’ll underestimate you because you’re a woman,_ Arthur had told her all those months ago, _make that your strength._

And she did, for a bit. She met his every strike, but he was strong, and forced her against the wall of a hut. Her arms shook, and without even thinking about how blatant it was, her magic made the man’s sword go white hot in his hands.

He dropped it, screaming. It was short work to dispatch him after that.

She breathed heavily over his body – Merlin had given him a quick death. She has a feeling that had she lost the fight, he would not have been so merciful.

“You’ll pay for this with your lives!” Kanen roars as he and his men rush out of the village, and Merlin automatically makes herself small, hoping he hasn’t noticed her. Death, she could deal with. The other things Kanen did... not so much. “All of you!”

And with that final promise, the warlord thundered away. Merlin doesn’t breathe until she can’t hear the sound of his horse’s hooves anymore.

“You still up to the same old magic tricks again?” Merlin turns to the voice, where a stocky youth stands looking her up and down. “I thought I told you I didn’t want your kind around here.”

 Merlin’s smile near splits her face in half. “I missed you too, Will.”

Her childhood friend grins right back and grips her in a hard hug, almost lifting her off the ground with his strength. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.” She said, not having realized quite how much she’d missed him until then.

“How’ve you been?” Will asks the question lightly, but there’s something serious in his eyes. “I hear you’ve been skivvying for some prince.”

Merlin swallows. “No,” she says carefully, knowing Will’s attitude to nobility in general, let alone kings, “it’s not _exactly_ skivvying.” Hiding her position from her mother is one thing. Hiding it from Will is quite another. “You see-”

It is, of course, at that moment that Arthur decides to be a prat. “Merlin!” he calls, his sword still drawn, “Gather the villagers, I need to talk to them.”

“In a minute,” she calls back, annoyed, “I’m just talking to-”

“ _Now,_ Merlin.” Arthur says, “There isn’t much time.”

Behind the prince, Lancelot rolls his eyes. “Alright!” she yells back, and turns to Will again. “Sorry.” She says, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. Of all the times for Arthur to choose...

Will just raised his eyebrows at her.

.

“I know Kanen’s kind,” Arthur told the villagers once Merlin had pulled them all together. It was obvious that he, Morgana and Gwen were bowled over by the amount of children in the crowd: Ealdor was half adult and half adolescent. His eyes kept flicking to the little faces: from the crying babes to the teenagers and ten year olds. “He’ll be back. And when he is, you must be ready for him. First, we all have to prepare for-”

“Am I the only one wondering who the hell this is?” Will called out, and Merlin almost groaned aloud, only managing to stop herself at the last moment. Too many times to count she had wondered whether or not Arthur and Will would get along – now, she clearly had her answer.

“I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot.” Arthur said shortly, looking down at Will as if waiting for an apology. He wouldn’t be getting one, Merlin knew.

“Yeah, and I’m Prince William of Ealdor.” Will jibed him, giving a flowery bow.

“Will, be quiet.” Hunith said sharply, “He’s here to help.”

“But he’s made things worse!” Will snapped back, his anger not directed at Hunith but at the prince. “Kanen will be back, he’s right on that count. But now he’ll be back for revenge, not crops. You,” he said, jabbing a finger at Arthur, “just signed all our death warrants.”

“He saved Matthew’s life!” Hunith cried, and the man in question nodded to Arthur, his little girl huddling up to his side.

“That’s alright, Hunith,” Arthur said, “it is his village after all. What would _you_ have us do?”

For a moment, Will floundered. “We can’t fight against Kanen.” He said finally, “He has too many men. We aren’t warriors, we’re farmers.”

“So what’s the alternative?” Arthur asked, his tone deceptively patient. Merlin could hear the undercurrent of annoyance, however.

Will sighed. “Give him what he wants.”

“Then what?” Arthur asked again, “Those of you who survive this winter will have to face him again next harvest! And the harvest after that. And after that.”

“We’ll manage,” Will said fiercely, “we’ll survive.”

The villagers disagreed. “How?” It was not just one voice questioning this statement, but all of them. A baby began to cry at the back of the crowd.

“The only way to stop him is to stand up to him.” Arthur said, his eyes not leaving Will’s furious glare.

“No!” Will said, and Merlin stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm, but he shook her off. “You just want the honour and glory of battle! That’s what drives men like you! Look, if you want a fight, then go home and risk the lives of your own people, not ours!”

“Will.” Merlin said in a low voice, as a warning.

He shook his head, before storming away from the gathering in disgust. Merlin picked up her skirts and ran after him, as behind her the villagers chorused support for fighting Kanen.

.

Will walked into his wrecked house, and Merlin hurried behind him. She took it as a good sign that he hadn’t slammed the door behind him.

It was, quite honestly, a wreck.

Tables were turned over, rugs ripped apart, Will’s hen was huddled atop his dining chair, her egg smashed and yolk smeared across the reeds that Will had put across the floor, which looked fresh. They’d have to be cleared now.

“He knows what he’s doing.” Merlin told Will as he righted his tables, and swore to see his sheepskin gone. “You’ve got to trust him, Will. Look, when I first met Arthur, I was just like you. I thought he was pompous and arrogant, just another spoiled royal.”

Will walked over to the stand that had his father’s chainmail and tabard hung over it, and righted it. He didn’t look at her, but instead brushed off the dirt and grass that had gotten onto his most prized possession. His shoulders were hunched. “Not much has changed then.” He finally said.

“But in time, Will, I came to respect him for what he stands for. For what he does.”

Will turned and sneered at her. “I know what men like him stand for. Princes, kings and nobles. I know.” He stood close to his father’s mail, as if protecting it.

“Don’t bring your father into this, Will.” She said, and felt as if her heart was breaking as his expression shut down.

“I’m not.” He said sharply. And then: “Why are you defending him so much, anyway? You’re just his servant. That’s all we are to people like him.”

Merlin shook her head. “You’re wrong, Will.” And then, she bit the bullet. “Me and Arthur... we’re... more than that.”

“Arthur?” he said, taking a step back from her. The hurt was naked in his face. “He’s Arthur now?”

 Merlin wetted her lips. “Camelot is... different from here, Will. It’s not... they have problems. With childbirth.”

Will frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“The nobles can take on mistresses of any social background, without marrying them, without shame, to try and conceive an heir. Any child born of that union would be legitimate-”

“Merlin,” Will says, looking at her with newfound horror, “please tell me you’re not-”

“I’m not his servant, Will.” She says, the words physically hurting her as she says them. “I’m his mistress.”

For a moment, all was silent. Will’s face went hard. “I’m going to kill him.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, and she blocked the door with her body as Will strode towards it. “Will, it’s not anything bad-”

“Bad?” Will said quietly, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “This is worse than bad, Merlin. This is you, fucking a prince who will never marry you, on the off-chance you can have a bastard to be his heir until he casts you aside. This is you spreading your legs like some whore-”

Merlin’s palm made contact with Will’s cheek before she even realized what she was doing. Will’s head rocked to the side from the impact, and Merlin’s hand stung.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry-” she began, going to cradle his head, but he pushed her away. His cheek burned red.

“You’re in love with him.” Will said, and put his head in his hands, “Of course you’re in love with him.”

Merlin couldn’t deny it. “I’m not going into this with my eyes closed, Will, I’m not some little girl who believes all the stories her mother told her about handsome princes.”

“You sure?” Will says, his voice gravelly as he throws himself down into his chair. “Because right now you look a lot like her.”

Merlin got down on her knees by Will’s side, and breathed. She reached up to look at his cheek again, and this time he let her. “It won’t bruise.” She says after tracing the mark.

“I didn’t want you here.” Will says, and Merlin realizes he’s crying a few moments afterwards, “I begged Hunith not to go to Camelot. Begged her. Begged her to leave you be, where you were safe. But she went anyway, because neither gods nor men can command your mother-”

“-when she’s made up her mind.” Merlin finished.

There was a beat. “You didn’t tell me you were going.” Will says, not accusingly.

“You wouldn’t have wanted me to go. And I would have stayed if you’d asked, and I couldn’t breathe here, Will.”

“I’d have gone with you.” The confession is a small piece of Will’s heart, which Merlin hadn’t ever dreamed of being given. She closes her eyes, and imagines it: the two of them in Camelot, Will protecting her from harm, the two of them working for a living, carrying on the way they always had. It would have been good.

But they wouldn’t have carried on the way they always had. Will has shown her that in these past few minutes by the way he looks at her, as if she hangs the moon and all the stars. It still could have been good.

That was a road less travelled, Merlin knew now. She hadn’t even known she was wiping away all those possibilities and could-have-beens when she walked out of the village, and didn’t look back.

“Don’t hate Arthur,” she asks him after an eternity of silence, “please. He’s good to me.”

Will wipes away the tear tracks from his cheeks and rises, before holding out a hand to her. “I’ll try. No promises.”

Merlin knows that’s the best she’ll get from him.

“Arthur and Lancelot are great knights,” she says as she wipes away the moistness from her own face, “and Morgana is trained with a sword and Gwen is a blacksmith’s daughter. We all can help.”

“You trust them with our lives?” Will says, bitterness snaking it’s way into his tone. Merlin wishes for the boy she had known before, the one full of sunshine and happiness and hope. But he’s gone, his light snuffed out with his father’s life.

“Yes. I trust them all with my life.” And when Will doesn’t look convinced, she adds, “I trust _him_ with my life.”

“So he knows your secret?” Will asks, and knows the answer by the look on her face. “Look, face it, Merlin. You’re living a lie. Just like before. He wants you for a child, and nothing more. And somewhere, deep down, you know that. Otherwise you’d tell him the truth.”

“Will, please-” she says, and he holds his hands up.

“I just want you to know that... when it falls apart, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

Merlin nods, and leaves, before she starts screaming, or crying, or both.

This was not how she had pictured their reunion going.

.

That night, Merlin curls up on the floor by the hearth as the rest of the house sleeps. She had become unused to the hardness after her bed back in Camelot, but told herself it was better than many had.

“Have you always slept on the floor?” Merlin turned to Arthur, who was evidently more awake than she had realized.

“Yeah. Our be- I mean, the bed back in Camelot is luxurious in comparison.” A ghost of a smile appears on Arthur’s face as she almost says ‘our bed’.

“It must’ve been hard.” He says, sounding surprisingly serious.

“Mmm. It’s rock. Literally.”

He snorted at that. “I meant, for you. It must have been difficult.”

Merlin shrugged, with difficultly, as she was laying horizontally. “Not really. I didn’t know any different. Life’s simple out here: you eat what you grow and everyone pitches in together. As long as you’ve got food on the table and a roof over your head, you’re happy.”

A pause. And then, “Sounds... nice.”

Merlin couldn’t hold back a laugh at that. “You’d hate it.”

“No doubt.” He agrees, voice full of mirth. “Why’d you leave?”

“It’s a long story.”

In the darkness, Merlin just made out Arthur rolling his eyes. “Stop pretending to be interesting.  Tell me.”

“Things... just changed. I didn’t fit in here anymore. I wanted to find somewhere that I did.”

Arthur’s voice shook as he spoke: “Had any luck?”

“Yeah,” she says, as she closed her eyes, “I think I have, actually.”

.

The next day she was significantly less enamoured with the prince. Her mother had made the best breakfast she could, full of nuts and grain and berries, and Arthur refused to even finish it.

“I’m going to kill him,” she seethed to Gwen.

“Don’t,” The maid said helpfully as she finished up Arthur’s portion, “you’d regret it later.”

“I’m less and less sure.” She growled, before picking up an axe.

“Merlin?” Gwen said, her eyes widening.

Merlin didn’t realize the cause of her alarm for a moment before laughing. “No, I’m not going to go and axe him to death. We need wood. I find that chopping things up makes me feel better.”

In all honesty, Merlin didn’t need the axe. But Gwen didn’t know that, and she had to keep up appearances. Plus, chopping things up was very therapeutic.

She made it halfway across the town and almost to the edge of the wood when she was addressed again by another idiot. “Where are you going with that?” Will called from behind her.

“What does it look like? I’m going to chop wood.” She told him, struggling to keep a lid on her temper.

Will raised an eyebrow and, to Merlin’s annoyance, fell into step beside her. “We both need you don’t need an axe to fell a tree.”

“And yet apparently only I remember how much trouble _that_ got me into. I nearly flattened Old Man Simmons!”

Will unsuccessfully stifled a laugh. “Yeah, well, he deserved it, the stupid old crow. Remember how he used to follow us around just to catch us doing something we shouldn’t have been?”

“He never was very fond of me.” Merlin recalled.

“Well, even less after that. He could never prove it, but he knew.”

“I didn’t see him in the village. Did he-”

“Yeah,” Will said, suddenly serious. “It was a short illness.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence. For a little while Merlin picked up her pace, but Will easily matched it, despite the fact she was half a head taller than him. “Why are you being like this?” she finally said, stopping to look at him crossly.

“You know why.” He said tersely, “Why did you leave?”

Merlin closes her eyes. When she opened them again, Will had made himself comfortable on a log as if getting ready for a story. When they were younger, she remembered, they had terrorized her mother to tell them fairy stories. Their favourite had been the one about the Lady of the Lake. “It wasn't what I wanted. You have to know that. My mother was worried already, and when she found out you knew... she was so angry, Will. So frightened. If I hadn’t have left she’d have gone mad with anxiety. It was... for the best.”

“Not for me,” Will said sullenly, and then quieter: “it’s been hell here without you. And you know I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

Merlin swallowed. “I know.”

“I bet you’d be able to defeat Kanen on your own.” Will said, looking at her with a softness in his eyes that she had never seen in his face before.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, so what's stopping you?” Will said, suddenly standing from where he had been perched on a log, “So what if Arthur finds out? We’re not in Camelot. I’d protect you.”

He meant it, Merlin realized, as she focused on his hands with shook by his sides. He really meant it.

“It’s hard to explain,” she said, “you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” Will said, the veins in his neck bulging.

“One day... Arthur will be a great king, and bring magic back to Albion. One day, people like me won’t have to hide anymore. We’ll live in peace, Will, and not have to worry about being killed for being ourselves. But, he needs help to get there. I have to help him. And if anyone ever found out about my powers, I'd have to leave Camelot for good, or they’d kill me. And it wouldn’t happen.” Will looked away from her sharply, and crossed his arms in front of him. “Will, please understand.”

“I can’t,” he said suddenly, taking a step closer to her until they were almost nose to nose, “I can’t understand. You’d choose him over us. You’d choose some spoiled prince over your friends and family.”

“I never said that!” Merlin snapped, “I’m here, aren’t I? Didn’t I bring three trained swordsmen, two of whom are knights, and somebody well versed in weapons? If it comes down to defeating Kanen with magic, I’ll do it, but there’s other measures that can be taken first!”

Will sneered at her. “And what will have to happen before you decide magic is needed? Our stores being stolen? Our neighbours getting murdered? The town getting torn apart? You have the power to save us, Merlin, and you just had to fall in love instead.”

“Will, that’s not what this is-” Merlin protested, but Will was already walking away. She watched his retreating back with a familiar sense of doom.

.

The day had been frustrating, it was revealed, for everyone.

Morgana was losing faith in their ability to defeat Kanen. Arthur was bullishly avoiding this negativity and instead running the villagers into the ground. Lancelot was trying to patch them up again afterwards and usually failing. Gwen was at her wit’s end trying to find any usable weapons.

“Please tell me you got wood.” Arthur all but begs her, and Merlin all but throws the pile of oak branches at him, so ready is she to just go to sleep and forget all about her conversation with Will.

Sleep, it turns out, is no escape.

She walks among what was Ealdor – her friends all slaughtered, their eyes staring glassily up at a starless sky. Arthur’s blood soaks into his cloak. Lancelot’s corpse reaches for Gwen’s mutilated body. Morgana face down in the dirt. Her mother’s face frozen in agony.

Will’s body is the last she comes to, and he is alive. Almost. Barely. She falls to her knees, but she can’t save him, she does everything, she pours all her magic into his wounds and all the time he cries, the same way he did when they heard his father had died in service to Cenred, and that the king wouldn’t even send his body home.

“Why did you do this?” Will croaks out, blood staining his lips, “Why did you leave me?”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, and looks to see her hands covered in his blood, right up to her elbows, as if she’s been bathing in it, “I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen, I just wanted to do the right thing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“I hate you,” every word of Will’s is like a punch in her gut, “I hate you, witch. Magic _is_ evil. _You_ are evil.”

“No!” she screamed, as she felt herself begin to burn, although there were no flames other than the burning hatred in Will’s half-dead eyes, “No! No!”

“ _No!”_ Merlin screeches, her eyes snapping open. The hut is quiet. Her mother sleeps blissfully unaware beside her, alive. The room is cold, she is not burning. Lancelot sits up groggily, woken by her screams.

“Me’lin?” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes, “Wha’s wrong?”

Merlin takes one breath, and then another. She’s fine. They’re alive. They’re all alive.

“Nothing,” she says roughly, “go back to sleep.”

He does. She can’t.

.

The village gathered together in the Common Building – the chairs had been snatched by Kanen’s men weeks ago, so they all stood, even the little children who were all half in love with Arthur.

“We're not going to be able to defend Ealdor with sword and sinew alone.” Arthur began, once everyone was gathered. Even Will was there, but looking distinctly unimpressed, and refusing to meet Merlin’s eyes. “We're going to need a plan. We need to find some way of limiting their mobility and drawing them into a trap. If we fight them on their terms, then-”

He was cut off by a woman’s scream, and meeting immediately dispersed as everyone ran outside to see the cause of the commotion.

A horse had ridden into the town, and Merlin recognized Matthew’s waxy features as those belonging to the dead body slung over the saddle like meat. He was dead. She had known him for as long as she could remember, and he was dead – there was an arrow sticking out of his back – they hadn’t even removed it.

The little she had forced herself to eat that morning for breakfast ejected itself from her stomach as Arthur yelled for him to be taken down. Matthew had whittled her toy horses and oxen when she was small, and they were still displayed as the centerpieces of her mother’s table.

A scrap of paper, Merlin saw, was attached to his back by means of the arrow. He had been so gentle. He had not deserved to die like this.

“What does it say?” she said, unable to keep her voice even. Arthur focused on it, and squinted, the ink already mixing with the blood.

“‘Enjoy this day, for it shall be your last.’” He read, before clenching his jaw.

Matthew’s fiance, Tara, shoved through the crowd at that moment, the blood rushing from her face as she saw his broken body lying so still on the ground. “Matthew!” She cried his name out like a prayer, before kneeling next to the corpse with hunched shoulders, and crying like the world was ending. “No,” she shook the empty shell of the man that would have been her husband like he would open his eyes, jump up and say ‘just kidding!’, “no, no, no-”

“You did this.” Will growls, before going nose to with Arthur suddenly, forcing the prince to step back as Will drew forward. “Look what you’ve done!” he shouted, pointing at Matthew’s body and his mourning lover, “You’ve killed him!”

“It’s not his fault, Will.” Merlin said, but Will didn’t even turn to look at her.

Instead, he addressed his angry accusations all at Arthur. “If _he_ hadn't been strutting around, treating us like his own personal army, this would never have happened!”

A fire lit in Arthur eyes, and still Tara sobbed in the background. “These men and women are brave enough to fight for what they believe in, even if you aren't!”

Will’s face rearranged itself into something reminiscent of a wolf’s snarl. “You're sending them to their graves!” he yelled. “You killed one man. How many more need to die before you realize this a battle that can't be won? When Kanen comes, you haven't got a chance. You're going to be slaughtered, all of you.”

Whatever his intentions, Will’s words made an impact with some of the villagers. Arthur’s fury played out plainly on his face, and by his side, he made a fist. For a moment, Merlin wondered whether they were going to fight one another physically, but after a moment Will stepped back, disgust in every line of his expression. Without a word, he stormed away, and Merlin’s feet made her run after him before she’d even made the decision to do so.

.

“Don’t bother, Merlin.” Will said as he threw his worldly belongings into a battered carpet bag. “I’m not interested.”

Merlin made her way to his side, but didn’t try to help or stop him, just watched. “You should be.” She says, “Because tomorrow Kanen attacks, and whether you like it or not, we'll have to fight. _You’ll_ have to fight.”

Will looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “You sound awfully sure. I won’t have to if I’m not here.”

“Well, that's up to you, but the rest of us are staying.” She said, trying to sound sure. “Join us, Will. This isn’t about Arthur, or glory, this is about Ealdor. About your friends. Would you just abandon them?”

“What, like you did?”

It’s a low blow, but it’s true. Merlin knows the hurt shows on her face by the way Will quickly looks away from her.

“No.” She tells him, “Not like me. You and me are not the same. You have never run away from anything in your life: not from becoming the breadwinner after your father died, not from your mother when she was dying, not from Ealdor when it would have been far easier to go to a more prosperous, inland villager, not from me when I told you about my magic, and Will, if you start now... then I will never forgive you for throwing all that away.”

Indecision warred on Will’s face. “I wanted- Merlin, you know this isn’t what I’d choose.”

“Then choose differently.” She begs him, and he steps away from her.

“You could choose differently,” he says, as he takes his father’s tabbard and mail off of its stand and begins to fold it reverently, “you could choose magic. You could choose Ealdor. But you won’t, will you? You could have saved Matthew, you could save everyone, but no. You choose a spoiled prince who doesn’t know just how special you are, who uses you as a broodmare.”

A tear slips down Merlin’s cheek, but she is full of rage. “He,” she says, making sure Will knows exactly who she is talking about by pointing at his father’s sigil, “would be _so_ disappointed in you.” She regrets it the moment she says it: Will’s father is not a bargaining chip or talking point. But what is done is done.

Will physically recoiled as if she had slapped him. Then, his whole body tenses as he comes towards her, opening and closing his fist so that all his arm muscles ripple. “I’m not the one abandoning people, Merlin. That’s you. That’s always been you. You abandoned Matthew, you abandoned your mother, and you abandoned me. And one day – one day Arthur will abandon you, like your father once did.” This time it’s Merlin’s turn to feel betrayed at how deep Will has dug into her psyche and hit the most tender point. They know each other too well, she realizes with despair. They know exactly what will hurt the most. “In fact, I know when he will – tomorrow. So I’m going to go, because I can’t watch it.”

He snaps his bag together, and puts it over his shoulders. Merlin stands frozen as he goes to the door, and then regains her voice as he turns the handle.

“You’re a fucking coward,” she spits. His shoudlers tense, but Will doesn’t reply. Instead, he slams the door in her face, and then Merlin is alone.

She stands in the quiet for perhaps an hour or a minute, before screaming. She kicks over his tables, chairs, his stands, destroys his pallet and his walls and the spot they used to curl up in as children, children who had never lost anyone they loved.

Merlin destroys it all, but Will’s blow stays with her, working poison into the muscles of her heart and slowly spreading the venom throughout her whole system.

.

She walks back to her mother’s cottage in the dark – when she enters, Arthur looks up from sharpening his sword. Merlin thought she had hidden her tears well, but clearly not well enough, as Arthur stands with a snap.

“What happened?” he demands, “What did he say to you?”

Merlin smiles weakly, “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Arthur pulls her into a tight hug, and Morgana exited into the other room where her mother is cooking to give them some privacy. Lancelot and Gwen were probably holed up in the forge still. They pull her mother’s makeshift curtain across, and she and Arthur are finally alone.

“I’m so sorry about Matthew,” Arthur breathes to her, “your mother said he was an old friend of the family.”

“He was a very kind man,” she said, voice thickening at the memory of his broken body, “he didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

“No.”

“Don’t think too badly of Will,” she says, “he’s... been through a lot. Me and him, we were best friends. Now I don’t think we even recognize each other anymore.”

“I wish you hadn’t gone after him,” Arthur confides in her, “I wish you’d been with me.”

Merlin sighed, and sat down heavily on the ground. “Will’s father died fighting for King Cenred. He hates nobility because of it, and... he had an very healthy distrust of authority even before that.”

“Do you think the villagers believed him?” Arthur asks, sitting down crosslegged on the pallet.

Merlin let out a snort of laughter, and some of the tension in her bled away. “No. He's always been a troublemaker.” She said fondly, “They're used to ignoring him. Once, when we were kids, we used to say that a wildcat was in the woods. They all believed us the first time, but by the third time they just ignored us. When, the sixth time, there was a wildcat in the woods, they ignored us and three sheep got eaten.” She huffs out a breath of a laugh at the memory.

Arthur doesn’t laugh. “Do you think this is like that time?” he says, pensively, “That he’s right?”

“He isn’t.” She said decisively, as if that settled it. But she doubted still, and Arthur knew it.

“I'm treating these men like soldiers, and they're not.” Arthur sighed, “You've seen them fight. They...they haven't got a clue! Or a chance, at this rate. Lancelot knows it too. You need to tell them all to leave the village before Kanen returns.”

Merlin shook her head, “No, we're going to stay. We're going to fight, and we're going to win.”

“Merlin, the odds are too greatly stacked against us-”

“Arthur, I have just lost my oldest and dearest friend.” She cuts him off, “I have lost the faith of my mother,” she ticked them off on her fingers, “my confidence, my home and I refuse to lose this battle. I refuse. I won’t do it. So what about the odds, fuck the odds. Are you or are you not the greatest fighter in Albion like everyone says?” Arthur opens his mouth, but Merlin glares at him to stay silent, “Everyone in this village has their whole way of life on the line. And not just that, but their actual lives, and those of their children. We have nothing to lose by fighting, and everything to lose by lying down and dying. I will not leave here, Arthur, and nor will they. All you need to do is get the men ready for battle, and the rest will take care of itself. We’re going to make Kanen rue the day he stepped foot in Ealdor.”

Arthur swallowed thickly. “I’m convinced.” He said, holding his hands up. “But how?”

“You've just got to believe in them. Because if you don't, they'll sense it, and the battle will be lost before it's even begun.”

Arthur nodded. “I can do that. I should go tell Lance-”

“Not yet you won’t.” Merlin said, dragging him back down beside her as he went to rise to his feet.

Arthur laughed disbelievingly. “Merlin-” he began, before the smile fell off his face as Merlin pulled off her dress in one movement. “You- you’re not-” he stammered.

“Stay quiet,” she reminded him as she began to work his breeches off, “remember, my mother and Morgana are in the next room.”

She had never seen somebody look more alarmed at having a naked girl in front of them before.

.

Merlin’s unorthodox pep talk had its intended result.

“Tomorrow,” Arthur said, “the children and their mothers should gather all that they can carry and go to hide in the woods.” Objections were about to be raised by various women, but he cut them off, Merlin having told him how the women of Ealdor wouldn’t want to sit out on the action, “The children cannot stay here whilst there’s a battle going on.” He said seriously, “It’s too dangerous. And the children cannot go alone. Any woman who doesn’t have children is welcome to stay and fight with us, it would be an honour to stand by your side.”

“Mummy, I want to fight-” a little girl, around three, complained loudly. Her mother went as red as a tomato and quickly hushed her. Merlin couldn’t help but smile at the pout on the small child’s face.

“Kanen attacks tomorrow.” Arthur said, hushing the crowd, “Kanen's brutal. He fights only to kill... which is why he will never defeat us. Look around. In this circle, we're all equals. You're not fighting because someone's ordering you to, you're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops in peace. And if you fall, you fall fighting for the noblest of causes: fighting for your very right to survive! And when you're old and grey, you'll look back on this day, and you'll know you earned the right to live every day in between! So you fight! For your family! For your friends! For Ealdor!”

“FOR EALDOR!” They chorused, and Merlin’s face almost splitting in two with how hard she was smiling, “EALDOR! EALDOR! EALDOR!”

The swords that Gwen had worked so hard on forging and fixing slowly were lifted into the air, and for one moment, Arthur met Merlin’s bright blue eyes and felt like they were going to live forever.

.

The next morning dawned quicker than Merlin wanted – there was not a cloud in the sky, which was coloured a perfect blue. A day such as this should be kept in memories as something beautiful. But the smoke from Matthew’s pyre still hung in the air and they all might die today and join him.

She hadn’t noticed Arthur coming up behind her, but his hands were warm as he touched her arm. “C’mon,” he said, pulling her back towards the hut, “we need to get ready.”

Merlin’s mother had been giving her heavy looks ever since she and Arthur had emerged together from the room, rumpled and smiling, but Merlin hadn’t wanted to face her yet. Still, Hunith stood by the door as Arthur entered, he and Lance changing first.

“Merlin,” she said in a low voice, so that Morgana and Gwen couldn’t hear, “why are you and the prince of Camelot so close? You say you’re friends, but you’re just a servant. Aren’t you?”

The question was not a question at all, but a challenge.

“Kind of.” She said quickly, avoiding her mother’s penetrating gaze.

“Merlin,” her mother’s voice brooked no argument, “tell me what is happening.”

The girl swallowed. At that moment, however, the curtain pulled back to reveal Arthur and Lancelot in their battle armour, and Morgana and Gwen trooped into the room to get changed. “Later.” Merlin said, thanking every deity she could think of for her lucky escape.

Her mother’s eyes burned on her back until she closed the curtain behind her, and let out a breath of relief.

.

When she exited long after Morgana and Gwen had, partly out of fear of her mother’s wrath and partly because she didn’t know how to wear armour, only Arthur was left in the second room.

He turned to her, and smiled. Merlin tried to remember every inch of it, in case she never saw it again.

“You took your time,” he teased, before looking her up and down. “You know, you almost suit armour. In a lanky, thin kind of way.”

“Shut up,” she said, whacking him lightly on his arm as she went to stand beside him, and stared into the fire. Shapes were made and unmade in the flickering flames, and Merlin couldn’t help but think that the tongues of light were showing her something she ought to understand, but couldn’t.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, after a long pause, and she turned to see him holding his hand out, “it’s been an honour.”

She goes to say something, but her throat is thick and won’t allow any words out. So she takes his hand, and shakes it as firmly as she can. “Arthur,” she finally manages, as she releases his extended digit, “Whatever happens out there today... please don't think any differently of me.”

“I won't.” He said, his tone understanding, “It's alright to be scared, Merlin.”

For a moment, Merlin thinks of protesting that she’s scared. But she is scared, terribly so. She is seventeen years old, and she doesn’t want to die. So instead she says, “That wasn’t what I meant,” and looks away from Arthur’s face, instead focusing on the hearth again.

“What is it?” he asked, and he steps in-between her and the fire so she has to focus on him. He lifts her chin up with his forefinger so their eyes meet. He is so beautiful. Merlin can’t contain the thought. He is so beautiful, and they could all die if she doesn’t do everything she can to save them – even if it makes him hate her. Even if it makes them all hate her.

Where will she go, once they know? She can’t go back to Camelot, and she won’t be able to stay in Ealdor either. Go travelling? Where? She knows nowhere else. When she doesn’t speak, Arthur sighs. “If you've got something to say, now's the time to say it.”

Merlin takes a deep breath. Her hands are shaking, her head is light and her heart is thumping and she is so, so afraid, she feels like her gut is below her knees. “Arthur, there’s something you have to know. I’m-”

It is, of course, at that moment that Morgana swings open the door to the hut, and pokes her head in. “Arthur,” she says urgently, “they’ve crossed the river.”

And Merlin’s anxiety is replaced with a new breed of fear.

.

The battle itself is a blur.

Merlin remembers Morgana’s fire finally coming to life, just as the villagers were getting tense in their hiding places. She remembers them springing out at all angles, she remembers getting a man’s blood on her mail and them losing slowly, because Kanen’s men were strong and battle trained, and they were farmers.

She remembers turning around to see a horse coming for her, and thinking it was the end, her mind suddenly devoid of spells, when Will – of all people – jumped off a roof and killed the rider, which spooked the horse who then ran away.

He got to his feet, winded. His hair was a mess, his face drawn, but he looked glorious in his father’s tabbard and chainmail. Merlin could do nothing but stare at him even as the fight raged around her, and he helped her to her feet.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” She said stupidly, as he supported her.

“Neither did I.”

A sword swung past her ear, and Merlin ended up back to back with Will, her throat as dry as sandpaper as they fought. The sun beat down upon her back, and all there was was death, and blood, and screaming. She finally defeated her opponent after a well aimed kick at his privates, and leaned heavily on her sword, her muscles feeling like jelly.

“There’s too many of them,” Will said, despair in his voice.

Merlin breathed heavily, and made her choice. “Not for me.” Will turned to look at her with wide eyes, and she smiled weakly, before beginning to chant. “ _Cume thoden.”_

Almost immediately, a wind grew, first only a small breeze just in front of Merlin, but then becoming a small hurricane and then a windstorm ripping throughout the village. She hadn’t meant it to be so strong, but it seemed to do the trick: the bandits were knocked off their feet, and left at the mercy of the villagers.

Once they sensed the tide was turning, the bandits as one seemed to decide to run. _Like rats abandoning a sinking ship,_ Merlin thought. Kanen had realized too, and raised his sword to point it at Arthur as the wind began to die down.

“Pendragon!” he bellowed, advancing on the prince.

Merlin barely saw their fight it was so quick: Arthur was head and shoulders above Kanen as a warrior, and soon Kanen was face down in the dust. The villagers cheered, so loudly that birds lifted up from the trees in search of a quieter place to roost.

Will turned to Merlin and grinned, his boyish smile reminding her of their golden youth. He was about to say something when Arthur marched over to them, his face as black as a thundercloud. “Who did that?” he demanded.

Merlin’s heart leapt to her throat.

“What?” she said, just about managing to keep her voice steady.

“Wind like that doesn't just appear from nowhere.” He said slowly, as if talking to a particularly stupid child. “I know magic when I see it. One of you made that happen. Who?”

Merlin swallowed. “Arthur-”

She didn’t get any further.

“Look out!” Will yelled, and shoved Arthur to the side as a crossbow bolt whizzed past. Merlin’s head snapped around to see Kanen, not so dead after all, grinning nastily before his life was finally snuffed out.

As if her limbs were drenched in treacle, Merlin could barely move quick enough to catch Will as he fell to the ground. “Will!” his name tore out of her throat as they landed awkwardly on the dirt. The bolt was sticking out of his father’s armour, a large patch of growing redness showing it had met it’s mark.

“You saved my life,” Arthur said, dazed.

“Yeah.” Will said, disbelievingly, before smiling at him with cracked lips, “Don't know what I was thinking.”

The spell was broken as the villagers began to cluster around, and Arthur began barking orders. “Come on! Get him inside!” Merlin followed the throng helplessly as Will was pulled away from her.

.

Will’s house was once again a wreck – they laid him down gingerly on his table, the same one that still had MERLIN AND WILL WERE HERE etched onto the wood from their childhood.

“That’s twice I’ve saved your life,” Will coughs, blood staining his tongue.

“Twice?” Arthur said, confused.

“I only counted the once.” Merlin said, stepping closer to Will with a warning in her eyes, before slowly stripping away his father’s tabbard and pulling the chainmail away to reveal the wound.

“It was me,” Will carried on, his voice beginning to grate, “I made the wind.”

Against her will, a tear slipped down Merlin’s cheek. She had never learned healing spells. She was useless, and he was going to die and die whilst claiming responsibility for her crime. “Will, don’t.” She begged, but he just turned his head to look at her, his eyes taking all of her in as if she was a feast and he had been starving.

“It's alright, Merlin.” He said thinly as the tears came faster and faster down her cheeks. He lifted a hand weakly to touch her face, and smiled as she let out a sob. “I won't be alive long enough for anyone to do anything to me.” And then he let his hand drop and turned his head to Arthur who stood as still as a statue. “I did it. I saw how desperate things were becoming and I had to do something.”

“You’re a sorcerer?” Arthur sounded shocked. The village men too looked at Will with surprise and an edge of fear in their eyes.

“Yeah,” Will breathed, and then raised his eyebrows with difficulty, “What are you gonna do about it? Kill me?”

“Stop it,” Merlin growled, trying to put pressure on the wound, but the blood still flooding out of Will.

“No. Of course not,” Arthur said, taking a step back. A guarded look was in his eyes. He turned to the village’s healer who arrived at that moment: she was an old woman, with cataracts covering her eyes, and Merlin already knew she wouldn’t be able to do anything. “Do all you can for him.” He said, before striding out of the hut.

“I was right about him,” Will huffed, in what was probably meant to be a laugh, “I told you was gonna get me killed.”

Merlin shook her head in denial, “You’re not going to die.”

“Let’s not play that game.” Will groaned, “I’m going to die. And you’re going to live. And... before I... I have to let you know-” he paused, coughing up blood. Merlin mopped it up with a rag quickly, and smoothed his hair against his head as he shuddered. “I have loved you since I knew what the word meant.” He coughed out, and Merlin cried desperately.

“Will-” she says, searching for the right words, but he cuts her off.

“No,” he wheezes, “no, don’t lie and say you love me too. I know you don’t, and that’s okay, but you have to know I love you. I love everything about you, you are- you are everything to me and- and if I die now then, then I’m glad I died for you. I didn’t do this for Arthur. I didn’t. It was all- it was all for you.”

“I don’t want you to go.” She begs him, shaking, hysteria building.

“I always be with you.” Will saids, grimacing, “Always. Won’t be able to get rid of me. Promise. Promise.”

“Promise.” She says fiercely, squeezing his lax hand hard so that his eyes, which had been beginning to close flick open.

“Merlin.” He whispered croakily, as more blood coated his lips “Merlin, I'm scared.”

“Don't be.” She said, before placing a kiss on his bloody lips, which mingled with the tears already on her face, “It's going to be alright.” She promised. “I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you.”

He looked at her, and then past her, as if seeing something else entirely. “Merlin...” he said, a slight smile on his face.

And then he was gone.

Merlin cried half the day and all night.

.

Will was put on his funeral pyre still wearing his father’s armour. She knew he would have wanted it that way.

Merlin hadn’t spoken to anyone for a day when Arthur come to her side as the flames were beginning to die down. “I'm sorry.” He said awkwardly “I know he was a close friend.”

“He still is.” Merlin said, tucking her chin to her knees.

“You knew he was a sorcerer, didn't you?” Arthur said “That's what you were going to tell me?”

Merlin teetered on the edge of the lie. And fell. “Yes,” she lied, “it was.”

“You know how dangerous magic is.” Arthur said, sounding genuinely concerned. Merlin reigned in her desire to laugh in his face. “You shouldn't have kept this from me, Merlin.”

“I’d do it again.” She said fiercely, before realizing what she was saying. Arthur swallowed, and then rose.

“You’re very upset.” He said, “I’ll leave you to your grief.”

.

A short time later, Hunith sat down beside Merlin.

“You better be going.” She said, conversationally.

“I don't have to go.” Merlin countered, “I could stay here for a bit.”

“Yes you do, and no you couldn’t.”

Merlin swallowed hard. “If anything were to happen to you...”

“I know where to find you.” Hunith smiled. “I’m sorry, about before, Merlin. You belong at Arthur's side.” At Merlin’s questioning look, she looked down to her lap. “I asked Morgana and Gwen about it. Being a... ‘mistress’. They were surprised I didn’t know, and... going against all I’ve said about men and marriage, I approve. I've seen how much he needs you. How much you need him. You're like two sides of the same coin. And I could never take that away from my daughter. I love you too much.”

Merlin laughed bitterly. “I've heard someone say that about us before. I'm going to miss you.” Hunith reached over, and enveloped Merlin into a hug that felt like home.

“I'm going to miss you, too.” The older woman admitted, “When you left, you were just a girl. Now look at you. I'm so proud of you. When the time is right, the truth will be known. Until then, you must keep your talents hidden. It's better for everyone.”

Merlin looked back at the fire, and blinked away her tears. A voice that sounded a lot like Will’s echoed in her mind, telling her that he’d never leave her.

She fingered a locket, the one his mother had worn when she had been the wife of a knight and not just a farmer: he’d left it to her in his will, and she’d put a lock of his hair inside.

It was almost her keeping her promise. But even Emrys couldn’t reverse death.


	11. The Labyrinth of Gedref

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin still cannot believe she let Arthur bully her into coming hunting.
> 
> It’s been three days, and still the thought boggles her mind that he had actually managed to combine his skills at convincing, seducing, blackmailing and threatening to bring her to kill things in the woods for sport. It also doesn’t say much about her willpower.
> 
> So far the hunting party had succeeded in killing three boars, one deer, scaring a fox within an inch of its life, and giving Merlin a pounding headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I updated. Don't faint. I'm as surprised as you guys.
> 
> After getting multiple reviews giving me some pep talks, I decided to motor on through this chapter that has given me writers block for 6 months (also allowing for my previous computer to crash, with the first half of this chapter on it and irreversibly lost). But here it is, written in less than four hours with no beta or even a proof-read. That's how bad I have to get this out.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! With any luck, the next chapter will not take anywhere near as long.

Merlin still cannot believe she let Arthur bully her into coming hunting.

It’s been three days, and still the thought boggles her mind that he had actually managed to combine his skills at convincing, seducing, blackmailing and threatening to bring her to kill things in the woods for sport. It also doesn’t say much about her willpower.

So far the hunting party had succeeded in killing three boars, one deer, scaring a fox within an inch of its life, and giving Merlin a pounding headache.

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed, face animated and full of excitement, and Merlin managed to conjure a strained smile at his joy, before pointing at a clearing. “We’ve seen something! Me and the men are going to go and follow, would you like-”

“I’ll pass.” Merlin says quickly, and Arthur rolls his eyes at her. “I wouldn’t want to scare it off for you.” She says lamely.

“Fine,” he says, far too excited to be dampened by her lack of enthusiasm, “You just stay here, I’ll be back in a while, hopefully with dinner.” With that, he and the knights tear off, leaving Merlin and a squire alone. The squire nervously plays with his hands and tries very hard not to look at her.

Merlin tries to do as she’s told. Really, she does.

But there’s only so many times she can brush her mare’s coat, or try and figure out what the clouds look like. “I’m going to make water,” she finally announces after a few agonizing minutes of her and the squire ignoring each other. He makes a sound that sounds it came from a mouse rather than from a man, and she makes her getaway.

Trekking through the pines and fallen autumn leaves in her breeches, Merlin loses track of time. She picks up mushrooms she thinks Gaius will enjoy cataloguing, and a few herbs and pieces of amber until her shoulder bag is full to bursting. It is only then she looks back to where the camp should be, and realizes it isn’t there anymore.

Merlin hates hunting. Merlin really, really hates hunting.

With a muttered curse, she licks her finger and lifts it up to see which way the wind is blowing. She had been walking towards it, so she must go the other way. Except now there appears to be no wind. “You’re a fucking idiot,” she says to herself as she sits down in a clearing and resigns herself to waiting for Arthur and his band of merry men to find her and tease her about getting lost. The forest is only so big, and they’ll have to find her eventually.

Behind her, a stick snaps and Merlin’s entire body freezes. Her heartbeat pumps in her ears. She licks her lips, a spell ready.

She turns around, arm outstretched and ready to fire off a curse when she finds herself face to face with the most beautiful creature she’s ever seen.

Merlin’s mouth snaps shut with a click, but her arm continues to hover in the air. She swallows, hard.

The creature standing before her is so white it hurts her eyes. The purity and iridescence of its coat are like starlight, and when she meets its eyes Merlin feels everything in the world slip away. Its horn sits between its eyes, long and proud. She steps closer.

The unicorn – because it is a unicorn, it can be nothing but a unicorn – steps forward but doesn’t allow her near enough to touch. Merlin feels almost crushing disappointment, but no anger. No fear. No upset. She is seeing a _unicorn_.

The moment lasts for- Merlin couldn’t even say. It felt both like eternity of the two of them looking at one another, in mutual respect and admiration, and absolutely no time at all.

And then, the moment breaks, shattered by soft footfalls.

The hunting party is closing in.

“Go!” she whispers urgently to the unicorn, who simply looks at her placidly, “Go, please! They’re going to kill you!” She steps forward to hit at its flank to spur it to movement, but her hand stops short. It would be a crime of the deepest kind to lay a hand on this creature. “Please,” she pleads with the animal, “you have to run!”

Merlin looks around frantically, but there’s nowhere to run. “Arthur!” she shouts, but she doesn’t know where to look, what seems like dozens of crossbows are poking out of the foliage and none of them in the prince’s hands, “Please, Arthur-”

A bolt springs from the trees, and buries itself right in the unicorn’s heart. Merlin screams as it hits the ground and kneels beside it, crying so hard the world becomes a messy palette with no clear edges, as the life goes from its eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, a unicorn!” Merlin hears a shout, and she gets up and turns to see a blob of red, silver and gold coming towards her. It stops as she faces it. “Merlin? Are you alright?”

Merlin marches up to Arthur and smacks him. “Do you know what you’ve _done?”_ she screams, wiping fiercely at her eyes. Arthur’s expression is one of shock, anger and confusion. “ _Do you_?”

“Merlin, it’s a hunting party, we hunt and kill things, it’s kind of in the name-”

“I want to go back to Camelot,” Merlin spits, “I want to go back right now.” She pushes past Arthur, vibrating with rage and sadness. She snatches Alfred’s reins from the squire’s limp hand and clambers onto her back. In the clearing below, Arthur stands surrounded by his knights, staring at her as they make a circle around the unicorn’s carcass. She stares the prince down, eyes only flickering away when she thinks she sees something white standing behind him. But when she goes to look, there’s nothing there.

Taking her break of eye contact for a chance to speak, Arthur jumps in.

“Merlin, stop being such a-”

“If you’re about to say girl, then I will murder you.” She snaps, before kicking Alfred’s side to get her to break into a trot. She races through the woods, until everything is a blur.

.

Merlin reaches Camelot in record time, well ahead of the group. She knows she must look a state, her shoulder bag full of mushrooms and herbs, face and hands covered in muck and tears, riding leathers smeared with the unicorn’s blood.

She marches through the halls, servants and nobles alike skittering out of her way, seeing her black expression and deciding that today was not the day to cross her.

Finally, she reaches her destination.

Without knocking, Merlin walks into Morgana’s rooms, causing both Morgana and Gwen to look up from where they were chatting, both of their faces registering horror at Merlin’s appearance.

“Arthur,” Merlin bites out, “is an asshole.” The her face crumples and she begins to sob, which rather ruins her entrance.

.

Merlin gets through the story eventually, interrupted by Gwen trying desperately to make her hair into something presentable, Morgana’s furious comments as the tale unfolds, and her own hiccups and sobs that she can’t press down fast enough.

But she does eventually manage it. By the time she’s done so, the horns have blared to signal that the hunting party has returned, and it’s almost dusk.

“Arthur is unquestionably an asshole,” Morgana asserts “I’ll give him hell for you, don’t worry. Us girls have to stick together.”

“I’ll give him the silent treatment too,” Gwen adds, “though I’m not sure he’ll notice.”

There’s a silence. “How horrendous do I look?” Merlin asks sheepishly, wiping at her eyes for what feels like the thousandth time.

Gwen shrugs “It... could be better.”

Merlin giggles at the noncommittal answer, sniffing. “Thanks for listening to me.”

Morgana pulls her and Gwen into an unexpected tight squeeze. She smells like apples. “Always. Now, you really have to get out of those riding clothes or I will have to rip them off. What’ll it be?”

Merlin surrenders to the inevitable.

.

That night, Merlin doesn’t go down to the hall for dinner. Instead, she goes to the kitchen, grabs herself a few things and locks her doors.

At about midnight, somebody tries to open her door.

She stares into the darkness until they give up.

.

Merlin manages to put off seeing Arthur until mid-morning, when he corners her. Behind him, Garth and George stand, both looking at the floor. “Traitor,” she mouths at Garth when he looks up and his mouth twists in upset.

“Look, Merlin, I’m sorry you’re upset about the unicorn, I really am, but moping won’t do any good. You can’t just ignore me. I won’t go away. What’s done is done. Let’s not let this get between us?”

Merlin looked at him flatly, and wonders who helped him come up with that speech. “I don’t think you should have killed it.”

Arthur throws his hands in the air. “And why is that?”

“It was... It was doing no harm. What purpose did you serve by killing it?”

“We were hunting. That's what you do. You hunt things. Would you have me bring it home as a pet?”

“I’d have you _leave it alone._ ”

Arthur opens his mouth, no doubt to come up with some bullish, insensitive retort, but a page taps him on the shoulder. Merlin can’t see the look on the prince’s face as he turns to the page, but by the page’s terrified expression, she can imagine it. “Y-your majesty, I apologise for the interruption but the King requests your presence as a matter of urgency.”

Merlin can see Arthur’s jaw clenching. He looks back at her. “This isn’t over,” he promises, before following the boy with stiff shoulders. Merlin lets out a long sigh, and goes back to her room, knuckles white around her pilfered lunch.

.

In the end, it is Gaius that manages to draw Merlin out of her self-imposed exile. Gwen and Morgana know better than to try, simply leaving things to keep her busy like drawings, ripped shirts and broken mechanisms. Garth has a one-sided conversation with the door. George tries to waft pasties and apple pies around.

Gaius, however, comes with a sharp knock and something he needs her help with.

“All hands on deck,” he says in a tone brooking no argument, “no time for sulking. We have to find out what’s causing the crops to die.”

“The crops are dying?” Merlin repeats, before jogging after the old man as he turned to go back to his rooms.

“Yes, the entire harvest is lost,” he says, “overnight everything died.”

Merlin didn’t have anything to say to that. “But-” she struggles for an explanation, “what disease kills all the plants in one night?”

They reached Gaius’ rooms, where Gaius closed the door sharply behind her. “No disease I’ve heard of.” He snorted, “But I must do the tests as a precaution I’ve missed something. Anyway, it’s not all the plants,” he said in a low voice, as if fearing being overheard, “the trees and hedges around the crop fields are unharmed. Unfortunately, you can’t eat trees and hedges.”

“It’s only killing... what we can eat?” The pieces came together quickly. “It’s not a disease. It can’t be. It can only be ma-”

“We can’t assume that,” Gaius says sharply. “Perhaps there is something in the soil and water that can explain it. I can't tell the King it's caused by sorcery until I'm completely certain. Otherwise... imagine how many innocents could die if I am wrong.”

Merlin nods. “What do you need me to do?”

Gaius smiles tiredly at her. “Just help an old man with his experiments?”

.

They worked for half the morning, with no success. The soil was completely clear of any infection or disease. The water yielded little more than the usual contamination of rainwater.

Gaius pressed another bucket into Merlin’s waiting arms. “Go and get me some more from the well, there’s a good girl,” he says tiredly. The bags beneath his eyes grew more pronounced every moment they failed to find any non-magical cause.

Merlin left him hunched over his table, never before having felt more useless.

“Merlin!” A shout from the courtyard turned her head as she passed a window. She looked down to see Gwen’s bright grin. Against her will, an identical smile twitched at the edges of Merlin’s lips.

“I’m coming!” she yelled down, picking up her skirts to run down the griffin staircase.

The sun burned her retinas as she emerged from the castle, and Gwen came over to her, also with a bucket in hand. “Morgana says she’s dying from the heat,” the maid told her, linking Merlin’s free arm in her own as they fell into step together, “to be honest, I think she wants it to throw in Arthur’s face.”

Merlin couldn’t stamp down her laughter. “I think it’d be a good use.” She says, trying not to let on about the crops in her voice. It wasn’t yet common knowledge that the entire kingdom had lost its harvest. Gwen, however, wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stopping to look at her friend.

“I can’t say yet,” she says, “but if Gaius is right-” _if it is magic,_ she thinks, “then you’ll know soon enough.”

Not one to pry, Gwen just gives her arm a squeeze. They walk the rest of the way to the water pump in silence. “I heard a rumour,” Gwen says slowly as she puts her bucket beneath the pump, “that the crops were dying.”

Merlin swallows, and doesn’t answer, which is confirmation enough. Gwen thins her lips and nods shallowly.

Gwen pulls on the pump, once, twice. She frowns. “That’s odd.”

“Let me try,” Merlin says, and grips the handle and pulls. Nothing. She pulls harder, and feels something shift. “Almost got it,” she says, and twists the pump sideways before trying again.

But water doesn’t come out.

Merlin lets go of the pump as if burned as sand continues pouring out in the place of water. She and Gwen share a wordless look of horror.

.

They wait by the side of the well as the flow of sand continues, Merlin biting at her nails and Gwen twisting her hands together. It takes less than ten minutes for Uther to appear with Arthur and Gaius in his wake.

Uther picks up a fistful of sand and lets it run between his fingers. “And you say the well is full of this?” he addresses his son.

“I sent men down to the underground reservoir. There is no trace of water to be found.” Arthur confirms, eyes glued to the floor, as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen.

“First the crops, and now this.”

“It's the same throughout the kingdom. There's precious little water anywhere.” Arthur adds. The king’s nostrils flared at the new information. He turned to the court physician.

“Gaius. Can you offer any explanation for this?”

Merlin fixed her eyes on Gaius. She knew what he was going to say before he said it. She closed her eyes and sent a prayer to the old gods to protect the innocents bound to get caught up in Uther’s crusade.

“I cannot think of a scientific explanation.” The old man said slowly, before letting out a sigh of resignation. “I can only conclude it's the result of sorcery.”

“I believe you're right. It is the work of magic.” The king’s voice hardened. “The kingdom is under attack.”

Merlin bit down so hard on her tongue she tasted blood.

.

She sits in her chambers, after Gaius didn’t return to his rooms, probably still locked away in an emergency council meeting. The bucket of sand taunts her. On her lap, her book of magic is open, and feels heavier than usual. A knot ties and unties itself in Merlin’s stomach, made of hunger and stress.

“ _Gréot gecymen, lecan. Gecymen gé drýe wæter.”_ She chants, and feels her eyes burn gold.

The sand does not turn into water. She squints at it accusingly. “ _Gréot gecymen, lecan. Gecymen gé drýe wæter.”_ Merlin tries again, as loud as she dares.

The sand still doesn’t turn into water.

“Well, balls.” She says, slamming the magic book shut with an air of finality.

.

Merlin, after losing her battle with a bucket of sand, went to the square to clear her head. She emerged as a group of knights dispersed, and she caught sight of a flash of blond hair. Merlin turned on her heel, but it was too late.

“Merlin!” Arthur called. She turned around reluctantly.

“Yes, sire?” she said sweetly, the effect dampened by her stomach rumbling loudly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “You do realize there’s a curfew?”

“I was just going in,” she tells him, daring the prince to contradict her.

“Yes, well,” he coughs, “go on then. It’d be embarrassing to have to arrest my own mistress for breaking the cur-” He cuts off, looking at something behind her. Merlin turns to look, but there’s nothing there. “What was that?” Arthur asks, eyes wide.

“What?” Merlin asks, but Arthur has already taken off at a run. Rolling her eyes, Merlin hitches up her skirts and runs after him. She pointedly ignores her stitch.

They end up in the lower armory, and as Arthur takes off to the left, Merlin goes right. A torch burns in the brazier and after a moment of indecision, Merlin grabs it. She doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but nothing moves, nothing breathes.

Her and Arthur almost collide as he comes from the other side. “Nothing,” she whispers, and he frowns. “Arthur, what did you even see-”

“There was a man,” he insists, “a man in all white-”

“Are you looking for me?” Another voice asks. Merlin’s neck snaps she turns so quickly to see an old man, in all white, standing on the wrought iron staircase. Arthur takes a step forward but the stranger doesn’t pay him any mind, as if he is of the same worth as a flea. “I am Anhora, Keeper of the Unicorns.”

To Arthur’s credit, he recovers quickly. “Camelot is under curfew. What's your business here?”

“I have come to deliver a message.” Anhora says, his gaze fixed on Arthur.

“And who is this message for?” Arthur asks, standing as tall as he can. Merlin realizes after a moment that he has stepped in front of her, as if it protect her, and she smartly steps forward as well.

“It is for you, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Is it you who's responsible for killing our crops, turning our water into sand?” Arthur demands, hands clenching into fists.

“You alone are responsible for the misfortune that has befallen Camelot.”

Merlin looks at Arthur with wide eyes as she realizes what Anhora means, but the prince protests violently. “Me?!” He all but shouts, incensed, “You think I'd bring drought and famine upon my own people?”

“Arthur-” Merlin begins but Anhora cuts her off.

“When you killed the unicorn, you unleashed a curse. For this, Camelot will suffer greatly.”

Merlin closed her eyes briefly, and heard Gaius’ words the first time she met him. _Magic was a caged animal that lashed out._ It is all happening again, she thought, despairingly. Uther cursed the people to infertility, and Arthur curses them with starvation. Merlin could cry at the irony.

“If you have put a curse on Camelot, you will lift it, or you will pay with your life.” Arthur snaps, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Anhora shakes his head, as if he is reprimanding a bratty child. “The curse was not my doing.”

“Undo the curse or face execution.” Arthur demands, something wild in his eyes.

“Only you can undo the curse, Arthur Pendragon. You will be tested.” Anhora tells him, and Arthur unsheathes his sword.

“You're under arrest.” Arthur reaches for the old man, but he turns to dust as Arthur goes to lay a hand on him. Unruffled, the old man reappears at the top of the staircase. Merlin draws in a shallow breath at the casual display of powerful sorcery.

“Until you have proven yourself, and made amends for killing the unicorn, the curse will not be lifted. If you fail any of these tests, Camelot will be damned for all eternity.” The words hover heavy in the air as Anhora disappears again, this time not to reappear.

Arthur breathes heavily, and leans on his sword as if it is a cane and he is an old man. Merlin stares at him in horror. “You idiot,” she finally manages to say, repulsion making her step away from him, “I told you. I told you.”

Arthur breathes harshly and splutters through a sentence of denials. “Merlin, this Anhora- you can’t just believe- I- I didn’t mean-”

“You never do mean to.” She says, and after a moment she feels a single tear streak down her right cheek. Arthur’s eyes follow its trajectory. “But here we are anyway.” She stares at him, not knowing quite what she’s waiting for. Finally, he straightens.

“I must go and tell my father,” he says hollowly, but doesn’t make to move.

“Go on,” she says in a high, hysterical voice, her hand finding its way to Will’s locket that feels like molten lead around her neck, “run. Run to your father. Together you have doomed us all. The Pendragon legacy.” Arthur recoils as if she had physically struck him, and she feels the small trickle of guilt, but not enough to make her take the words back.

Not waiting to see what he does, Merlin swoops past him, storming up the steps.

As always, it appears she will have to fix Arthur’s mess.

.

Arthur vibrates with rage as he lies in wait in the granary, mind going over and over the earlier confrontation.

How dare this Anhora accuse him of killing his own people? How dare he try and shift the blame to him? How dare Merlin _believe_ him?

Arthur hated how it always came down to Merlin. Even now, the way she looked at him, full of horror and disgust cut to his very core. He’d told his father everything – _almost_ everything, he didn’t say that Merlin was there, didn’t say that she had undermined everything he felt about himself and his father’s legacy in one cutting retort – and Uther had agreed Anhora was to blame.

Anhora. Not Arthur.

So he has to find Anhora, has to kill him, has to end the curse and save the people and show Merlin that she was wrong about him. Show her that he isn’t his father.

Before Merlin, he had always wanted to be just like his father. But now...

Arthur is pulled out of his reverie as a human shaped shadow dances on the wall. He straightens, and crouches. The door opens.

“Show yourself, before I run you through,” Arthur commands, and the man to whom the shadow belongs freezes.

A man edges around the corner, a sack of grain in one hand and a shovel in the other. His face is white from terror. “Who are you?” Arthur barks, and the man shudders.

“My name is... my name is...”

“Speak up!”

“My name is Evan, My Lord.” The man says, quaking in his boots.

Arthur looks down on him. “I see you think you can help yourself to our grain reserves. My father has order that looters be executed.”

Evan’s eyes widen. “Please, My Lord. I- I do not steal for myself. I have three children they have not eaten for two days. They are hungry.” The man’s voice breaks on the final word.

Arthur swallows, but stands firm. “It's the same for everyone.”

Evan nods hurriedly. “I... I know that it is wrong to steal. I couldn't bear to see them starve.”

“And could you bear for your children to see you be executed?” Arthur knows it is the wrong thing to say the moment he does so, as Evan shakes his head and tears glisten in the man’s eyes. He seems ready to fall apart any moment and for a second, Arthur wishes Merlin was there. She knew when to be gentle, how to get the right responses from people. All Arthur seemed able to do was upset people. Arthur sheathes his sword.

“Then you should go home.” Arthur doesn’t plan to say it. It just comes out, and he knows its the right thing to do. “If you're caught stealing again, I will not spare you.”

“Yes, milord.” Evan gasps, bowing so low his hair almost brushes the floor. “Thank you, milord.” He gives Arthur a shaky smile and puts down the shovel and bag of grain, before turning to leave.

Arthur grimaces as Merlin’s face hovers in his mind’s eye. _You would leave starving children to die, Arthur? You are not the man I thought you were._ “Wait.” Evan stops and turns, obviously afraid Arthur will have gone back on his decision.

Instead, Arthur picks up a bag of grain and tosses it to Evan. The man stares at it, uncomprehending.

“Use it sparingly.” Arthur says, uncomfortable at the amount of pure gratitude in Evan’s eyes. “It might be the last food you and your family get for some time.”

Evan bows again, and speaks as if he is a different man.“You have shown yourself to be merciful and kind, My Lord. This will bring its own reward.” Arthur frowns at the change of tone, but brushes it off. As Evan leaves, he leans against the wall again, mouth dry and head light from lack of food.

Arthur imagines that if Merlin were there, she’d smile.

.

Merlin doesn’t mean to fall asleep. She had meant to continue trying to turn the sand to water until she succeeded, but after hours with no success, she had dozed off into a fitful sleep. She awakes to George, apparently having resorted to using his spare key, shaking her awake.

Her heart misses a beat as she sees his face, thinking she  had left the magic book open- but she sits up to see her table clear but for the sand. After a moment, she remembers putting it back in it’s hiding place after she had said the spell so many times she had memorized it, not needing to read it anymore.

“Merlin!” George says, almost unprofessionally as he is so excited, but he just manages to rein himself in, “The wells have begun dispensing water again! I brought you some-”

Merlin stares at the pitcher George carries, and wonders for a moment if this is another dream. She tries to speak, but her throat is too dry and sore. “Here,” George says, pouring out a section in a cup. To Merlin’s embarrassment, her hands are shaking so much she has to pick it up with two hands to gulp it down.

When she can finally speak, Merlin thanks George more effusively than she thinks she’s ever done before. George colours.

“Don’t thank me, it was the prince who told me to come to you. It was the first thing he did once we learned the water was back.” George looked at her with raised eyebrows. “It’d be a good thing to thank him for his thoughtfulness.”

Merlin rolls her eyes, but knows he’s right. “Where did you see him last?”

“The training ground,” George smirks in a wholly un-George-like way, before pouring out another glass. “More?”

Merlin doesn’t even dignify that with a response and instead snatches it from him, before chugging the whole thing, George watching with horrified fascination.

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time with Garth.

.

“So,” Merlin opens with as she approaches Arthur in the shade of the training ground, “the water’s back.”

Arthur turns to her, and gives her a small smile, “So it is.”

“Do you know why?” Merlin asks, sidling up alongside him.

Arthur shrugged. “No. Good luck?”

“I don’t think luck has anything to do with it,” Merlin countered. She sighs, and rubs her forehead. “Did something happen? Any tests, like Anhora said?”

Arthur pauses for a moment, and she knows he’s thought of something. But he says nothing except than “I didn’t see Anhora last night, no.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Merlin says, “but whatever you did, keep it up.”

A warm hand encloses around her own. Merlin looks down at their touching palms, before winding her fingers through Arthur’s. “Are we good?” Arthur asks, a little desperately.

Merlin nods, and steps closer to him to put her head on his shoulder. “We’re good.”

Arthur’s entire body relaxes, as if he hadn’t realized how tense he was until that moment. “I’m going into the forest, to see if I can follow Anhora’s trail, and end this. My people can’t stand this much longer. I was going to go alone but-”

“I’m coming.” Merlin said firmly, “Gods knows what trouble you’ll get yourself into if I’m not there to take care of you.”

Arthur mutters something about being perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and Merlin just smiles into his shoulder.

.

The next morning, after feasting on some dubious stew that George had made, Merlin and Arthur set out for the forest. They headed for where they had slain the unicorn, but the carcass was gone. Arthur then revealed he hadn’t wanted to bring it back to Camelot due to Merlin’s reaction, so had only sawed off the horn as proof. But now the whole thing was gone.

“I don’t know whether to be pleased or not,” Merlin muttered, before shaking her head. “Okay, what are we looking for?”

“Tracks, trails, broken branches. Things that’ll take us to Anhora, wherever he is. If we split up, we might manage it faster.” Merlin nodded and soon the sun was rising high in the sky, burning the back of her neck as her braid flopped to one side of her head.

“Merlin!” Arthur shouted after a long while, from what sounded like a great distance. Merlin stood up and brushed herself off, but the prince was nowhere in sight. “Merlin!” The shout came again, and Merlin began running towards the sound, but it seemed to change with the wind. “He’s here!”

“Where?!” Merlin yelled, but there was no reply. “Arthur? Oh my god. Every fucking time.” She began trekking, occasionally yelling out the prince’s name to no avail.

After what felt like hours, but was probably more like half an hour at best, Merlin thought she heard voices.

Following the sound, she came upon a clearing where Arthur stood alone, sword outstretched at thin air.

“Arthur?” She said and the prince’s head snapped up. His eyes were full of defeat. “Arthur, what happened?” she demanded, and after a moment Arthur threw his sword in the dirt.

“I have damned my people,” Arthur says hoarsely, “that’s what has happened.”

.

Merlin can barely keep up with Arthur as he rides hard back to Camelot. He refuses to speak of what occurred, instead focusing all his energy into getting back to the castle.

They are still too late.

Merlin jogs after Arthur as he bursts into the throne room, where Uther sits, running his fingers through bags of grain.

“What is it?” Arthur asks immediately, and Merlin can hear the fear in his voice, “What’s happened?”

Uther throws down his handful of grain.

“All our remaining supplies have rotted,” he says gravely, “every last grain.”

.

Merlin goes to her chambers, but leaves the door open to Arthur’s as she lays on her bed, trying desperately to conserve what little energy she has left. Arthur’s voice filters through, but she can barely concentrate on it. “There are some supplies left... palace stores... distributing them to the people... not enough to live on... will not survive for long.”

The next voice belonged to the king. Merlin knew she should try to listen, but her head swam with hunger. “Then you... stop distributing food... people.”

“...will starve...”

“...must conserve the food we have for our army...”

“...cannot let our people go without food...”

“...must defend the kingdom at all cost... what would you have me do...”

“...starve to death... ask neighboring kingdoms... help... may be able to spare food...”

“...out of the question... weak... enemies... strike...”

“...don’t know...”

“...rather starve than beg... reputation... no pride?”

“...people go hungry... all I can think of...”

“...give order... stop distributing food to the people... understood?”

“...order yourself...”

“...if you’d caught...”

Merlin disappears then, to the land of sleep, where nobody is ever hungry.

.

Arthur doesn’t know what to do. This is all his fault. His people are being left to starve. And he had had a chance to lift the curse, and he failed.

Without thinking, he goes to Merlin’s room to see her laid out on the bed, as still as death. Her chest still rose and fell, but barely. Her skin was the colour of parchment, and dark circles ringed around her eyes.

“What have I done to you?” Arthur whispers, and Merlin stirs a little, but doesn’t come around.

He swallows, mind made up.

“George,” he calls softly, mindful of Merlin’s slumber, “when Merlin wakes up, make sure she eats. I don’t care what. Give her some more of that damned rat stew. And saddle my horse.”

.

Arthur doesn’t know where he’s riding to. His horse seems to know though. In the end, he just lets himself be taken where he must. He didn’t tell his father he was leaving, nor his knights. He left a message with George for Merlin, and another for Morgana, but neither of them to be given them until he had been gone for an hour.

Finally, the horse stops.

It is a maze, a huge one, stretching as far as the eye can see. Something in Arthur’s chest tugs him towards it. Slowly, Arthur dismounts, and gives his charger a final stroke before unsheathing his sword.

“I wouldn’t wait too long,” he says to the animal, who just stands there, loyal to the boy who has ridden him since he was nine years old.

Then Arthur takes a deep breath, and steps into the labryinth.

.

_Merlin,_

_I have gone to find Anhora and free the people of Camelot once and for all from this curse. I should never have killed that unicorn. I should have listened to you. Now all I can do is make amends by sacrificing my own life for the people of Camelot. Do not come after me. Stay in Camelot, take care of my father and Morgana if I do not return. And if we never meet again, know I love you with all my heart._

_Arthur_

.

  
“Oh my fucking god,” Merlin says as she shovels rat stew into her mouth as quickly as possible as George stands over her, making sure she does eat her fill as the prince ordered. “I’m going to kill him.”

George opens his mouth, and closes it again at her glare as she polishes off her bowl. She doesn’t give him a chance to protest, storming down to the stables and grabbing Alfred from a very confused stablehand.

It is only when she is alone in the open countryside that she dares scry for the prince. “ _Me demonstravisse Arthur Pendragon_ ,” she chants, and in her mind she can suddenly see a thin, silvery line stretching out in front of her. “Come on girl,” she whispers to Alfred, “we have a clotpole to save.”

.

Except it doesn’t really go like that.

Merlin takes two steps into the labyrinth, only to immediately come face to face with Anhora. “Where is Arthur?” she demands, “What have you done to him?”

“Nothing. Do not fear for him, my child. _Gehæftan._ ” Anhora says in a gentle voice, before the world goes dark.

.

Merlin comes to sitting bolt upright in a chair, a table with two goblets and another chair before her. To her right stands Anhora and the other side of the labyrinth, and to her left, the sea. Sometime when she was unconscious her hair must have slipped out of its plait, and the loose strands whip around her head.

She doesn’t have to wait long for Arthur to appear from the maze.

“Merlin?” He says in confusion. “What are you doing here? How-” His eyes light on Anhora. “Let her go. She has no part in this. I’ll take your test, but not until she is freed.”

Anhora shakes his head. “That is not possible. Merlin is part of the test. Please sit. If you refuse the test, you will have failed and Camelot will be destroyed.” Arthur seems to have a silent battle with himself, before slowly taking a seat.

His eyes and Merlin’s meet. “I’m sorry.” She says quietly.

Arthur nods grimly, accepting her apology. “Let's get on with it.”

“There are two goblets before you.” Anhora said, “One of the goblets contains a deadly poison, the other goblet, a harmless liquid. All the liquid from both goblets must be drunk, but each of you may only drink from a single goblet.”

Arthur frowns, “What kind of ridiculous test is that? What does that prove?”

“What it proves is for you to decide.” Anhora says calmly, “If you pass the test, the curse will be lifted.”

Merlin stared at the two goblets, and the two identical liquids they held. “Let's think about this. What if I drink from my goblet first?”

“If it's poisoned, you'll _die_.” Arthur said, making it clear he didn’t consider that to be an acceptable outcome.

“And if it's not, then you'll have to drink from yours, and _you'll_ die.” Merlin ran her hand through her hair, “There must be a way around it.”

Arthur nibbled at his lip. “It is perfectly simple. One of us has to die. We have to find a way to determine which goblet has the poison. And then I'll drink it.”

“ _I_ will be the one to drink it.” Merlin said sharply.

“This is _my_ doing.” Arthur insisted, “I'm drinking it.”

“It is more important that you live.” Merlin pointed out, “You're the future king. I'm just a mistress.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. “You're not just a mistress to me. You know that.”

Merlin sighed, purposely ignoring his words. Arthur could have all the time in the world to be brave and lovely when they weren't about to die. “What if I drink from mine first, and if that's not poisoned, I will then drink yours?”

“He said each of us is only allowed to drink from a single goblet.” Arthur pointed out.

Merlin massaged her temples, deep in thought. After a few minutes she sat upright, grinning. “I’ve got it. Right, we pour all the liquid into one goblet and then we can be sure it is poisoned. Then all the liquid can be drunk, and it will be from a single goblet.”

“That... might just work.” Arthur said in wonder, “You never cease to surprise me.”

“You’d get bored otherwise,” Merlin quipped. At the same moment, Arthur’s eyes widened at something behind her, his mouth going slack.

“Look out!” he yelled, and Merlin ducked, clenching her eyes tight shut. No blow came. She opened her eyes and looked behind her – there was nothing there.

She turned back sharply to Arthur, who had a goblet to his lips. Her own was empty.

“No!” she yelled, reaching for it, but the table was long and her arms couldn’t grasp it. Anhora’s power kept her suck to her seat, “Arthur, I will drink it.”

Arthur scoffs, “As if I’d let you.”

“You can’t die,” she tells him, and to her horror feels her eyes begin to sting with tears, “This isn’t your destiny.”

“It seems you’re wrong again,” Arthur said, but he lowered the cup from his lips.

Merlin’s eyes were fixed on it. She had to get him to lower it far enough for her to be able to grab it. “Listen to me,” she said desperately, trying to think of something to stall him.

“Oh, you know me Merlin,” Arthur said, “I never listened to you.”

He raised the goblet in a cruel sort of toast, and drank. Merlin could only watch in horror. “No, Arthur, you idiot, what have you done?” she cried.

He put the goblet down, and smiled weakly at her before his eyes closed and he fell off his chair. At the same moment, she felt the compulsion that kept her stuck to the chair lift, and she rushed to the prince, shaking him but his eyes didn’t even flicker. “Arthur, no... Arthur, Arthur! Come on. Come on. Don’t leave me here. Please, come on, please... Arthur...” She fell into wracking sobs as the prince stayed limp in her arms.

In her peripheral vision, Merlin saw Anhora step closer and she gripped Arthur’s body to her even tighter.

“Please.” She begged, “Please! Just... let me take his place. Please, have pity.”

Anhora shakes his head solemnly. “This was Arthur's test, not yours, young one.”

“You've killed him!” she screamed, “I was meant to protect him!”

“He is not dead.” Merlin looked at Anhora, barely daring to hope. “He's merely consumed a sleeping draught.” The old man continued, “He will come round shortly.”

Merlin’s breath hitched, “W-what?”

“A unicorn is pure of heart.” Anhora explained, “If you kill one, you must make amends by proving that you also are pure of heart. Arthur was willing to sacrifice his life to save yours. He has proven what is truly in his heart. The curse will be lifted.”

Merlin just cried, pulling Arthur closer to her. “I love you,” she whispered to the unconscious prince, “I love you.” When she looked up again, Anhora was gone.

.

Explaining to Arthur what happened when he woke up was not fun. It was also not fun having him notice the tear-tracks on her cheeks and being teased about her crying over what she thought was his dead body.

“Almost worth dying for,” he quipped.

They rode back to Camelot at a gentle pace, Arthur still woozy from the sleeping draught and Merlin’s burst of adrenaline at Arthur’s ‘death’ leeching away to leave her shaking and hollow.

When they arrived, they made a quiet entrance, cloaked and supporting one another until they managed to grab the first piece of food they found. Merlin hadn’t been one for asparagus before, but now it tasted like ambrosia.

Whilst they were stuffing their faces, Merlin and Arthur must have been spotted by someone, as the king and Gaius were soon arriving and everyone was rushing to their feet – although many of the children had to be dragged away from the platters of food. “I see you’ve seen that the harvest has recovered,” Gaius said, pulling Merlin in for a hug.

“You did it,” she said to Arthur, squeezing his arm. He looked at the ground, bashful but smiling.

“Is this your doing? Is the sorcerer dead?” Uther asked.

“He won't be troubling us anymore.” Arthur said, diplomatically. Merlin hid her smile at the non-answer in Gaius’ shoulder.

“Good,” The king said without pause, as if it was a pre-determined outcome of his own making, “make sure the grain reserves are re-stocked.”

“I'll see to it.” Arthur said, “But there's something we must do first.”

.

Arthur laid the unicorn's horn in a burial mound of stones, reverently. Merlin stood at his side, hands crossed in front of her stomach and smiling at her lover.

“I should never have ended your life.” Arthur said hoarsely, “I'm sorry.” He rose, and Merlin gave him a peck on the side of the mouth as they embraced. Arthur’s body shuddered with barely contained sobs.

When Arthur managed to pull himself together, they began laying stones over the grave. Soon, it looked like any other grave, and only they would know it wasn’t. Merlin looked up, dusting her hands off on her leathers, but froze. She slowly reached over and tapped Arthur’s arm. “Look...” she breathed.

Before them stood a unicorn – _the_ unicorn from before. Merlin was sure of it.

Arthur’s mouth dropped open, and they both drank in the sight of the beautiful animal, who bowed it’s head to the two of them before trotting away.

 _When he who kills a unicorn proves himself to be pure of heart_ , Anhora’s voice spoke in Merlin’s mind, _the unicorn will live again._


	12. To Kill A King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing this monsters of a chapter, I am now dead. But at least I finally updated. Next is my second favourite S1 episode (my favourite being The Poisoned Chalice (or Will's ep. Just because I love Joe Dempsie)) so hopefully I should get it out quickly :)

“Gwen, has Lancelot been writing much?” Merlin asks, one windy autumn day, as the three of them – Merlin, Morgana and Gwen – lounge in Morgana’s chambers, eating a late lunch.

Predictably, the girl colours, and Merlin cackles. “I knew it.”

“How did you know?” Gwen demands, whilst Morgana contents herself eating a strawberry in such a way that it would strike any man dumb.

“Your dress doesn’t exactly fit your normal fare,” Merlin nods to Gwen’s dress – it is red and blue, and the buttons are fashioned in the shape of silver stars. It’s perfectly suited for Gwen’s darker skin, and Merlin wishes that she looked half as good in dresses that cost twice as much.

“Lord Lancelot definitely has taken a shine to you, Gwen,” Morgana adds, wiggling her eyebrows at her maid. “Soon enough he’ll be whisking you away to his mansion and then it’ll just be me and Merlin, stuck dealing with Arthur-”

“Shut up!” Gwen says, giving Morgana a playful shove. “It’s not from Lancelot.”

“Stringing along multiple men, eh, Gwen?” Merlin teases, and this time it’s her turn for a push.

“It’s a gift from my father,” Gwen says hotly.

A terrible thought suddenly occurs to Merlin. “Gwen, please tell me it’s not your birthday and I’ve completely forgotten.”

Gwen laughs, “It’s not my birthday, Merlin.”

“Oh thank god,” Merlin sighs in relief, “I was worried that at any moment Morgana was going to whisk out some great present and I’d have to own up.”

Morgana laughs, a sound like tinkling bells. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for whenever you’ve annoyed me.”

Merlin grabs the last of the grapes and pops it in her mouth smugly. “Not today, though.”

“When you’re least expecting it,” Morgana promises darkly, having to settle for an apple instead. She then turns to Gwen, “Don’t tell her when your birthday is.”

Gwen’s mouth twitches. “You’re both really mean,” Merlin sulks, sticking her tongue out at the two of them. “You compliment a girl’s dress, and what do you get for it? A sinister plot.”

“It is a nice dress,” Morgana comments, “what’s the occasion?”

Gwen shrugs, “I honestly don’t know. My father said that he wanted to buy me nice things, and that we were ‘going up in the world’. He’s been spending a lot of time in the forge. I think that he’s got a wealthy customer or something.”

“That’s good,” Merlin says, “Tom’s right. You do deserve nice things. Like... a certain Lord I know.”

Gwen’s ears burn as red as the fabric of her gown, but she can’t stop smiling either.

.

Merlin doesn’t know why she wakes up in the middle of the night – for a second she wonders if that vomiting bug she’d caught the week before had returned, but her stomach felt fairly settled, if a bit bloated after a day of snacking. Merlin has decided that her body must know that it’s going to be a cold winter, and that’s why she’s been feeling so hungry all of a sudden – no matter what Arthur says about sex working up a healthy appetite.

Arthur. Merlin put her arm out to feel for the prince’s warm, hard body, but clutches only air. She rolled her eyes, and sat up. He didn’t usually leave her once they’d settled down for the night, but it wasn’t completely unexpected. He’d been making noises for a few days of being on a Super Secret Mission, and she supposed he’d gone to do that. Though what couldn’t wait until morning, Merlin didn’t know.

There was a strange buzzing in her ears. She yawned, trying to make them pop, but the noise only grew louder – she winced at the building of the pain, the building of the power – magic, she realised, suddenly relieved that Arthur had left. Strong magic and it was close. Close enough for the caster to be in Camelot. As soon as she had thought this, the noise cut off unexpectedly, as if a roaring fire had had ice cold water dumped on it. A feeling of foreboding grew. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

She goes to grab her robe, but ends up having to search for it, Arthur apparently having decided that when he tore it off her earlier the same evening, he had to throw it behind the wardrobe. “Prat,” she mutters at nothing when she finally finds it, pulling it on triumphantly. Although in the same time it took her to locate the robe, she probably would have been able to put a simple gown on. Oh, well. This was her life after all; there was no point in expecting it to suddenly become easy.

She pokes her head out of her chamber door, meeting the eyes of the guards who do their very best to look unperturbed at her sudden appearance. "Where did the prince go?" She asks the closest one, before she hears Arthur's voice already down the hall, barking orders. "Never mind," she cuts herself off, "found him."

She hurries down the hallway, to the gallery that looks down at the entrance hall. Within moments Merlin locates Arthur from the red of his jacket and the yellow of his hair - he's directing the city guards furiously, and there's a figure being pulled towards the prince, a large man with slumped shoulders. "Put him in the cells," Arthur says firmly, "Find my father and inform him of the threat."

Merlin is about to go back to bed, assuming Arthur's Top Secret Mission was at its conclusion, when the man in chains turned his head around to glance back, and Merlin's heart dropped.

It was Tom. Gwen's father.

.

Merlin's first thought is that she has to find Gwen. But Gwen lives in the town and what would Gwen be able to do right now other than panic? No, Merlin needs Morgana. She all but sprints to Morgana's rooms, cursing that their chambers are on opposite sides of the castle, and opens the door without a knock, despite the protests of the guards posted outside who were too sleep deprived to react quick enough.

"Morgana!" Merlin yells as she throws the doors open. The ward's green eyes snap open, looking at Merlin's shadowy figure as she jogs to the lady's side.

"My lady-" the guards rush in after her, but Morgana raises her hand and stops them in their tracks, apparently not too sleep addled to recognise Merlin's voice or the urgency in her tone.

"It's alright, it's Merlin," she said, before turning her attention on Merlin herself. "What is it? Merlin, it's the middle of the night-"

"Gwen's father has been thrown in the dungeon!" Merlin blurts out. Morgana freezes from where she was pulling her covers back.

"Merlin, are you sure?"

"I saw it with my own eyes," Merlin insists, and Morgana's shadowed form gives one of her characteristically sharp nods. The ward, dressed only in nightclothes like Merlin herself, snatches a fur shawl from the back of her chair. "Does the king know?"

"Arthur was going to tell him." Merlin replies and they set off together towards the throne room.

.

Merlin doesn't know what it says about her and Morgana's reputations that the guards at the throne room door don't even ask why they're there, instead allowing the doors to swing open without either girl needing to say a word. Uther and Arthur are discussing the raid in low tones, but they look up as she and Morgana go inside.

"That messenger was quick," Uther said to himself, before shaking his head, not even commenting on Merlin's presence. Uther seems to have resigned himself to the fact that she's part of the royal household now, in one way or another. "Nevertheless, you're here now. I assume you're aware of what Arthur found in the forge?"

"No," Morgana says, pulling her wrap tightly around her. "We came as soon as we heard that Gwen's father had been arrested."

"Yes." Uther says curtly, "For treason."

"Treason?" Morgana exclaims, looking at Uther as if he had just grown a second head. Merlin sneaks a look at Arthur, who is studying the table with intense interest.

"Yes, Morgana," Uther says sharply, "treason. The blacksmith was consorting with a known enemy of Camelot."

"Enemy?" Morgana echoes, "What enemy?"

For the first time, Arthur speaks, straightening up and focusing very hard on not meeting Morgana's eyes, instead latching onto Merlin's with a plea for understanding. "Tauren. He's the leader of a band of sorcerers who have sworn to kill the king."

Merlin swallows, wetting her lips. Morgana, an example to Merlin for her sheer stubbornness, raises her eyebrows. "And where is this Tauren now?"

"He escaped." Arthur sounds very unhappy about that fact.

"Then how can you be sure?" Merlin said.

Arthur's mouth twists. He always does that when he's anxious, Merlin thinks. "I saw him, Merlin. I saw them together."

Morgana jumps back into the fray at the small piece of doubt in Arthur's voice, "You could have been mistaken, Arthur."

Arthur's eyebrows knit together. "I'm not." He doubles down, but still sounds uncertain, ever since the king pronounced the charge to be treason. The only punishment for treason is death.

"Even if this man is who you say he is, you cannot sentence Tom to death just for being seen with him."

"Morgana," Uther reprimands his ward with a harsh tone, "we have reason to believe he was forging weapons for Tauren and his men. Weapons that would be used to kill me and throw Camelot into chaos."

"He would never do such a thing!" Merlin is surprised that she's the one who says the words, as Morgana looks at her proudly.

"Merlin's right," Morgana insists, "Tom wasn't the sort of man to be bribed."

"Every man has a price," Uther says darkly, making a motion to Arthur, who takes a lump of what looks like gold across the table. Morgana and Merlin both stare at it, and Merlin remembers Gwen's pretty new dress, a stone dropping in her stomach.

"We found it on the blacksmith," Arthur elaborates.

"So, he was paid!" Morgana says, but she sounds less sure now. "He's a blacksmith. He could have been paid for shoeing Tauren's horse."

"In gold?" Uther's words hang in the air, making the atmosphere heavy and painful.

"My lord," Merlin says, her throat dry, "without the sorcerer Tauren, there's no proof that Tom did anything wrong. It's all circumstantial, and even then, is it possible he didn't even know who Tauren was? I know Tom, your Grace. I don't think he would ever commit treason against you."

"I am looking at the proof," Uther says, his eyes hard.

"This is madness!" Morgana spits, "You see what proof you want to see. You condemn a man with nothing." She looks at Arthur, who is staring at his boots. Merlin sincerely doubts that he's appreciating all the hard work George put into cleaning them. "Have you nothing to say?"

Arthur meets Morgana's eyes, then Merlin's. For a moment, Merlin doesn't know what he's going to say. But then he turns to Uther. "Father, we are all in agreement the blacksmith committed a crime, but we can't know for certain he meant treason. This could all be-"

Uther silenced his son with a look of pure ice. "Nothing is certain, Arthur, save for the law. The law stands, or this kingdom falls. There can be no exceptions made."

"But the law must give him a fair trial!" Morgana cries out in frustration, tears shining in her eyes.

"He will get a fair trial," Uther grits out, "and he will be found guilty. Because that is what he is."

The king's words slam into Merlin's ribcage as she realises that Tom won't have a chance at his so-called fair trial. The king had made up his mind. "If you execute Gwen's father," Morgana says in a low, mean voice that makes the hair on the back of Merlin's neck stand up, "I will never forgive you. Never!"

Morgana exits in a swirl of self righteous fury, and it's only after her figure disappears that Merlin realises she should have gone with her. She turns to Arthur and Uther, and for a moment the resemblance that so eludes her most of the time slams into her - they wear the same expression, one of resignation and blame both. "Sire," Merlin says, wondering why she's speaking (Arthur's expression telling her that he's wondering the exact same thing), "perhaps Arthur could investigate further into Tauren, make absolutely sure-"

"Yes," Uther says, turning to Arthur, "Tauren slept somewhere, fed somewhere. Find anyone who helped him in any way, and bring them here for a trial. The people must see that the laws of Camelot are not to the trifled with."

Merlin's throat closes up in horror. Uther takes his leave mere moments after Arthur had consented. When it's just her and Arthur left in the room, Arthur takes a deep breath. "Next time," Arthur told her, "Just don't say anything. You're not going to be the one to change his mind."

He took her into a hug. "We can't let Gwen's father die," Merlin says fiercely, "we can't. Gwen's one of my dearest friends, Arthur. If Tom dies... she'll be an orphan."

Arthur's expression spasms, the words landing a little too close to home for his taste. "You're freezing," he says instead, and Merlin knows why he didn't answer her. He doesn't want to lie to her, and say it won't come to that. Because it will. It has before, and it will again. "Let's get you back to bed."

Merlin lets it lie. Arthur is not the one she's angry with, not really. And she needs to sleep well. Tomorrow, she'll have to tell Gwen that her father has been arrested for treason, and she'll have to be strong. Tonight, she'll let herself be weak. Tonight, she'll let Arthur change the subject and dance around the unhappy truth. Just this once.

.

Gwen reacts better to the news than Merlin expected. It only takes a few hours to calm her, not the whole day.

All the while, between her gasps for breath and sobs, between her furiously wiping away unwanted tears and rubbing her cheeks raw, Gwen keeps on asking Merlin and Morgana the one question they can't answer: why?

Why had Tauren gone to her father? Why had her father taken his gold? What had they done that got her father arrested for treason? What was worth that kind of punishment, this kind of heart wrenching, soul destroying sorrow?

The only person who can tell Gwen that is Tom. And as his trial is tomorrow morning... it would be better to go as soon as possible. It would give them longer to think up a defense. A defense or an obituary.

They only let one person in at a time to visit the dungeons, so Merlin and Morgana nod encouragingly at a still teary Gwen before she disappears into the dark bowels of the castle. "I don't know what to do," Merlin tells Morgana quietly, so the guards at the gates can't hear them. "You know what sentence Uther is going to pass."

Morgana replies with a shallow nod. "Gwen knows too. She just doesn't want to." Then, in a most unladylike move, Morgana rips her hair out of its intricate styling with one furious movement. Merlin winces at the flash of pain across Morgana's face, but doesn't mention it.

"We can't just do nothing," Merlin says, "he's Gwen's father. He's the only family she's got left." Merlin's own mother, Hunith, comes to mind. Merlin doesn't know what she'd do if Hunith was in the situation Tom was in. She wouldn't just sit back and accept it. She can't. She won't.

"I won't let Uther orphan Gwen," Morgana said, her eyes the only thing revealing her true inner turmoil. "Not like he-" Morgana cuts herself off, but Merlin knows what she had wanted to say.

Not like he orphaned me.

They wait in silence, after that, and Merlin has already imagined a thousand terrible ends to every plan that flashes through her mind before Gwen reemerges from the dungeons. "How was it? What did he say?"

"He didn't know Tauren was a sorcerer," Gwen said softly, "he wanted... he wanted to build a better life for me." The girl's lip wobbles, but she pulls back her tears - that, or she is simply out of them. "Tauren went to the forge, offered to pay him a fortune for his help - it wasn't for weapons," she tells them defensively, "for an experiment, or something."

"Gwen, what kind of experiment? If it was just a normal practice, then your father can't be accused of being an accomplice to sorcery-"

Gwen shakes her head empathetically. "Father didn't know the specifics but... he said Tauren used some kind of stone. He used magic." She looked at Morgana and Merlin with a shattered expression, "He's going to die, isn't he?"

.

Merlin isn't proud of the fact that she and Morgana had to have Gaius sedate Gwen. But the relative peace that sleep brings to Gwen's face is better than the despair and grief that have been Gwen's default expressions for the past twenty four hours. Even a small respite is better than none.

There is no such luxury for her and Morgana.

"I think I can convince Uther, given time," Morgana says slowly.

"We don't have time," Merlin says, with a note of panic in her voice, "the trial is tomorrow morning."

"So..." Morgana swallows, "we make time."

"How do we- oh. Oh no. Morgana, if he gets caught, there won't even be a trial-"

Morgana leveled Merlin with a flat look. "You know as well as I do that a trial is a formality at best. Tom is dead tomorrow unless he gets out tonight. If Uther was a rational man, he'd see that Tom never meant any treason. But he only sees enemies."

"We can't be implicated. Uther and Arthur-"

"I know. I know. If we can just get him the keys, he can get himself out. Once I have time, I can work on Uther. When Uther changes his mind, Tom gets his trial. An actual trial."

"What if Uther doesn't change his mind?"

"It also gives Arthur time to track down Tauren, the real criminal. Right now, Tom is just a scapegoat. If Uther doesn't change his mind, we can make it lessen a bit."

Merlin lets out a breath. "Arthur has the spare dungeon keys."

"If you get the key, it'll be less suspicious."

"I don't really know Tom. It'd be weird if I visited him-"

"I'll do that. I'll visit him. You pass me the keys, I go down, and it’ll be fine. Then, we've done our part."

"Okay," Merlin says quickly, before she can think better of it, "I'm in."

.

Once she has the correct key safely tucked into her pocket, Merlin makes her way back to Gwen's bedside. She doesn't expect Morgana to be gone: when she asks Gaius where she went, he mutters something about going to Gwen's house to find Gwen's effects.

Merlin shrugs and wait by Gwen's bed, at the bed that had once been hers for a few days, and looks at Gwen's peaceful face: she hopes this works. God, she hopes this works. Because if it doesn't... she massages her temples. She has a headache, and her ears are filling with the same white noise from before and the magic isn't as strong as before but god it still hurts- what is this? Who?

Luckily, she doesn't have to contemplate that further, because Morgana pokes her head round the door. "Merlin!" she exclaims, "You won't believe what I found at Gwen's."

"Door!" Merlin hisses, motioning violently towards the open door and Gaius' back. Morgana closes the door. "What did you find?"

Morgana presents a small leather bag from behind her back. "I think the sorcerer dropped it. It's the stone that Tom was talking about."

Merlin frowns, and takes the bag. The moment she pulls the stone out of the bag, the high pitched whining in the back of her mind falls silent. The jewel glows a brilliant amber. Immediately, Merlin realises that it’s burning because she's magic, and she looks up, panicked, at Morgana.

"Don't worry," Morgana says, misunderstanding what her expression means, "I think it's just from touch. It glowed when I held it too. It doesn't do anything but that. It won't hurt you."

Merlin arranges her features into a look of relief, knowing just how wrong that Morgana is. It also confirms her suspicions that she had since Sophia - Morgana is magic, just like her. As long as she doesn't realise... she's safe. And the day she does... Merlin will be there for her.

"I'll hide it." Merlin says, tucking the stone back in the bag. "Here's the key."

She and Morgana exchange their gifts - Merlin decides she'll hide the jewel in the false back of the wardrobe with the rest of the things that will get her killed if anyone finds them. Morgana hides the key within the many folds of her dress.

"Ready?"

No. "Yes."

.

Merlin's heading back to Gaius' chambers after hiding the stone with the rest of her magical artifacts when she runs into Arthur. "Merlin!" he calls, and she dredges up a smile for him and how hard he's trying. "Come with me?"

It's kind of embarrassing how she can't say no to him. "Where are we going?" she asks him.

"The courtyard," he says with a sigh, "the others... that helped Tauren. They're being brought in."

Merlin's throat closes up. "Oh," she says faintly, "okay."

It's not okay.

They troop through in pairs, wearing chains and an expression of deep resignation to their fate. Their necks are bowed down under the heat of the sun. Merlin's stomach turns. These people weren't criminals: they were farmers, inn keepers, workers.

"They're all to be executed?" she says in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes." Arthur says, and he takes her hand and squeezes it.

"By order of the king?" Merlin knows how bitter she sounds as she wrenches her hand away. It's not Arthur's fault, she knows that, but god. How many more have to die to satisfy Uther's bloodlust? How many more were never born because of his choices?

"They committed a serious crime, Merlin," Arthur says, but it sounds like something he says by rote. A defense mechanism, nothing more.

"I don't think you mean that," Merlin says, "I know you don't. Their crime was giving a man a bed for the night."

"He wasn't just a man," Arthur says, "if he was then maybe...no. He was a sorcerer, Merlin. Not a man like everybody else. He made his choice."

"How were they to know that?" Merlin said, raising her voice. "He's not going to introduce himself as a sorcerer when asking for bread or shelter."

"It is not for you to question my father, your king, and his decisions, Merlin." Arthur snaps, a complicated emotion briefly passing over his face. But Merlin recognises it: helplessness.

"No," she agrees, "but if it's anybody's place, it's yours. But you never have. And as long as you spend your days saying nothing, thinking nothing but what he tells you to, people - good people, who have done nothing wrong - will keep on dying in the name of his vendetta."

Arthur opens his mouth, and closes it. Around them, the crowd has dispersed. "Just... go, Merlin. Please."

She does, pulse pumping in her ears. On the way back, she sees Morgana. They pause in an empty hallway, and talk quietly. "He has the key?"

"He has it."

"He understands it's down to him now?"

"Yes. Don't draw attention to yourself. Act normal."

Too late, Merlin thinks bitterly to herself, before heading back to her room, satisfied that there's nothing more she can do to help Gwen or Tom.

.

Merlin spends an afternoon examining the jewel, and its pure good luck that she's only just put it away when there's a knock at the door.

"Come in!" she calls, already knowing who's going to walk through the door.

Arthur enters, still visibly torn, but he gives her a real smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle, and that calms a bit of the torrent inside of her.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," she echoes, walking over to him.

"I wanted to apologise," he blurts out, "I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did."

"I think we both know it wasn't your way of speaking that makes me angry."

"I... I know he's not always impartial when it comes to magic." Merlin snorts. Arthur gives her a Look, but lets it go. "But he is in every other avenue of justice. And he is my king. Yours too. Magic has taken so much from him, from this kingdom."

"A sword is just a piece of metal until somebody wields it."

Arthur winces, "I don't want to fight with you Merlin. There are exceptions to the rule, I know there are. Will saved my life, and I'll never forget that. But Tauren is actively fighting to kill the king-"

"Those people weren't. They were giving a man in need shelter and bread. And now that act of kindness will cost them their lives. And you know as well as I that the only reason that Tauren is trying to kill your father is because of The Purge. The Purge only began when your mother died. Your father claims she died because of a sorcerer, but there's only his word for it - she could have been like every other woman who dies in childbirth, and got a bad roll of the dice. It goes round and round - what does it matter who struck the first blow?"

"Merlin, be fair. You know I can't change him. No one can. You know it."

"No, I suppose you can't. But you have a better chance than anyone else."

"Please, just..." Arthur looks very lost, "I don't know how to make this better. I love you. I'm sorry. Please, just forgive me?"

"I can forgive you," she says, "but I can't forgive your father. It's not my place, even if I wanted to. He needs the forgiveness of the countless peaceful people who were slaughtered. He needs forgiveness from all the people who were never born because of his pride."

Arthur sighs wearily. "Good god, you're annoying. I don't know why I bother when you're like this. Anything I say is wrong."

"You know exactly why you bother," Merlin tells him, "if you didn't know, you wouldn't still be here."

"If I was anybody else, then you'd be joining them on the scaffold for treasonous talk." Arthur warns.

"And you know if it's that easy to end up on a scaffold in Camelot, something is deeply wrong with the way your father rules this kingdom."

"I'm not my father."

Merlin steps forward, and strokes Arthur's cheek. He hasn't shaved yet - tiny bristles tickle Merlin's palm.

"I know, my love. You are so much better than him."

.

In the end, Arthur stays the night. They don't do anything more than hold each other, however - the entire affair has exhausted them both. As Merlin drifts off to sleep, encased in Arthur's strong arms, she can't help but think she has a rock solid alibi.

She wakes before morning, to a different sound to the high pitched whining of the stone from a couple of nights before - instead, it’s the warning bells clanging above her. Arthur springs up, tugging on his breeches and boots hurriedly. "Something's happened," he says worriedly, and Merlin has to resist the urge to say that yeah, she got that part from the bells (and from the fact that tonight Tom was meant to break out) "Stay here. Don't leave until I come back and tell you its safe."

He all but vaults out the room, his hastily pulled on boots slapping against the stone floor.

Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Getting up now would be foolish - she couldn't help Tom and it would only heap blame on her. Without any other options, Merlin begins to pray to the old gods of her childhood, the ones that lived in the trees.

 _Spare him for Gwen,_ she begs, _spare her the agony of losing him. Spare her that pain. Spare him for her._

When Arthur returns half an hour later, his grim expression tells her that her prayer fell on deaf ears, as she had feared it might. She hadn't been the most pious of children, and even less so as an adult.

"He begged for his life," Arthur says brokenly, "he begged."

.

The worst part, by far, is sitting by Gwen's side, just waiting for her to wake up. Because when she wakes, it'll be her and Morgana's job to tell her that her father is dead. And in part, he's dead because of them.

She thinks the anticipation will be worse than the actual moment. But she was wrong.

Gwen screams, screams, wails, tears at her face and her pretty dress, sobs and cries and punches with weak arms. She gives Merlin and Morgana both their fair share of blame, and no more, and that makes it even worse, because if they hadn't done what they had, he'd have had a trial at least. But Gwen snorts, and any charity she had for Uther Pendragon is gone. "You tried to save him," she wept. "But he was as good as dead the moment Uther put him in those cells."

Merlin would do anything to make it better, because she knows the pain Gwen is feeling. She knows the sickness, the weakness, the fury, the raw need to hurt something or someone, to make them hurt as badly as you are hurting. Will's locket is heavy against her collarbone and Merlin pulls at it so much over those few, terrible hours that when she takes it off in the evening, it leaves a red line around her throat.

When Gwen's tears have finally run dry, and she is left with a red raw face, watery eyes and bruised fists, she puts her head in Morgana's lap and sounds like a small child when she asks: 'why?' And neither Merlin or Morgana can answer. They sit like that for what feels like an age, the sky changing colour from weak light to golden morning. Merlin can't help but think that it shouldn't be such a beautiful day after such a terrible night. A storm should be raging, the skies should weep for Gwen, for Tom, for all of them.

Morgana gently shifts Gwen, maneuvering her like she's made of brittle porcelain until her maid's curly head is resting against Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin puts her arm around Gwen's shoulder, stroking her upper arm on instinct. "Where are you going?" Gwen whispers, with barely enough energy to raise her head to look at the lady.

"Don't worry about it," Morgana says thickly, shooting a valiant attempt at a smile at her maid, "Just stay here."

"I should be with you."

"Not today, Gwen. Stay with Merlin, that's how you can serve me."

Gwen hiccups her consent, and Morgana catches Merlin's eye as she rises. Merlin gets the message: she's to stay with Gwen. She doesn't know for certain where Morgana is headed as she closes the door behind her firmly, but she thinks she can guess.

.

Eventually, Gwen feels strong enough to leave Gaius' chambers, and the two of them walk hand in hand down to the courtyard, where carts rattle past filled with fruit, thread, and wood. Every few minutes, a cart with a very different cargo passes them: a human sized shape with a sheet thrown over it. Gwen watches each one go past in silence: there is no way of knowing which one carries Tom's corpse and which transport the other men unlucky enough to have crossed Tauren's path to Camelot. Gwen watches them all go by, unblinking until they disappear from her sight.

"When I was child, my mother died," Gwen broke the silence after about six of these carts went past them, and Merlin turns to look at her friend. "She gave birth to my brother after the Purge, and I suppose the magic had already begun. There was so much blood. I begged her to stay with me, and my brother and father. But she died, through no fault of her own, and then all I had was Elyan and my father."

"I didn't know you have a brother."

Gwen shrugs helplessly, "You weren't to know. When Elyan was fourteen, he and my father fought. The next day, Elyan was gone. I haven't seen him since: I don't know if he's dead or alive. When it was just me and my father... he had been training Elyan as a blacksmith, and whilst he didn't expect me to follow into his trade, he showed me tricks. He could make sparks fly up and dance with just a touch. He was... I loved him so much, Merlin. He was a mother and father to me. He was all I had for so many years, and for him to be gone... it just doesn't make any sense to me. It's like the whole world has dropped away from me, and I'm stranded. He was my anchor. What- what will I do without him?"

Merlin doesn't know she's going to envelop Gwen into a hug until her arms are already wrapped around her friend's shaking shoulders. "We'll work it out," Merlin tells her, "me, and you, and Morgana... we'll never leave you, Gwen. Neither will Lancelot or Arthur. We're not your father, but we could be your family. You are already a dear friend to each and every one of us."

Gwen manages to make the sides of her lips momentarily twitch upwards. "I'd like that. I don't think I'm suited to-"

" _Merlin_!" A sudden shout cuts Gwen off, and both she and Merlin turn to see Garth, decked out in full Camelot livery and chainmail running as fast as he was able over to them.

"Garth?" Merlin asked, "What are you doing here? What's happened?"

Garth bent over once he reached them, panting. "Morgana... she... Uther put her in the dungeons..."

"Oh no," Gwen exclaimed, "What did she _do_?"

" _Where_ is she?" Merlin asked, knowing her eyes were probably as wide as saucers.

Garth looked between the two of them, before deciding to prioritize Gwen's question first. "Apparently she upset Uther, he was talking all about respect and all that, at least that's what Jonas told me, and Jonas' brother Archibald was part of the dungeon shift-"

"Garth. We don't need to know that." Merlin snapped, "Where is Morgana?"

"According to Jonas' brother Archibald and his cohort, she's in the same cell that Arthur was put in after he disobeyed Uther to, you know, save your life. Richard thinks that it's the family cell, you know, because it has straw and manacles with a bit of give unlike the others-"

" _Garth."_ Merlin said dangerously.

"Right, yes." he said awkwardly, "Anyway, I need to get back, my shift is in the kitchens-"

"Swap it," Gwen said, stepping forward, "I know you can. Everyone wants a shift in the kitchens. Get the dungeon shift."

Garth pouted. "But the kitchen shift-"

"I know, but this is for Morgana." Gwen stepped forward and smiled at Garth so brightly that he blinked once, twice, as if he had been blinded by the sun. "Please, Garth? We'd owe you a favour."

Garth looked from Gwen to Merlin and then back again, before beginning to grumble, clearly resigned to losing his coveted kitchen shift, even if just for today. "You two owe me a _big_ favour." He said, before turning round, "Follow me. John's on dungeon shift right now, I should be able to swap without any problems. He hates doing the dungeon shift. As does everybody _sane_. Chances are, your legs go dead, everyone tries to break out or in, and it's really cold."

"It's only a two hour shift, Garth!"

"It's a long, cold two hours, okay?"

.

Garth wasn't wrong about how cold the lower dungeons were, but Merlin wasn't about to admit it and give him satisfaction. Instead, she made loud comments about how toasty and warm it was, earning a side eye from her sometimes-guard. Garth had to break away to talk to the guard stationed outside Morgana's door, and the loud whoop that the other guard gave before hurrying off to the kitchens with a large grin on his face gave Merlin the impression that Garth may not have been completely overexaggerating about how hated the dungeon shift was.

"Morgana!" Gwen called out into the long corridor of cells, "Where are you?"

"...Gwen?" Morgana's voice floated down the hall, "Gwen! How are you- where's Merlin?"

"Here!" Merlin called as Garth finally found the correct key to open the passageway. Merlin and Gwen spilled down the hall - all the cells were empty except the second to last one - there sat Morgana, whose gorgeous dress was covered in straw, and her hands were manacled behind her.

"Morgana!" Gwen cried, her expression one of horror. Morgana attempted to get to her feet, wobbling slightly without the help of her hands, putting on a brave face for her and Gwen's benefit, but as the light fell on her face; Merlin could see the dirt scuffing her jaw, and the red eyes that betrayed she'd been crying. She didn't manage to rise, in the end, but tried to make it look like a choice instead of a difficulty.

"Can you open the cell?" Merlin asked Garth, who began looking through the keys. "The cell, yes," he said slowly, "but I don't have the manacle keys."

"Good enough," Merlin said, motioning for him to open the door. Garth looked rather worried.

"I could get in a lot of trouble," he said slowly, "if the king found out, I'd be thrown out on my ear. Maybe worse." He shivered.

"He won't know," Merlin promised, "None of us will say anything. And she won't go anywhere. Please, just let us make sure she's alright."

"I'm fine," Morgana piped up, and Merlin simply cocked a skeptical eyebrow. Garth sighed, and picked out one of the keys, before putting it in Gwen's waiting hand.

"I didn't see anything," Garth insisted, "I'm going to the end of the hall. If anyone comes - anyone at all - then I'll warn you. But if you're caught, then I didn't help you. You came in whilst the guards changed, okay? Don't get John in trouble neither."

"Alright," Merlin nodded as Gwen unlocked Morgana's cell door. Garth quickly walked to the end of the hall, and stood outside the door, where John had previously been. Merlin entered Morgana's cell, the door ajar, as Gwen fussed over her lady's condition.

"How could they do this to you?" Gwen said, gently inspecting Morgana's torn dress and raw wrists, at least the little she could see whilst the manacle were still locked on.

"It's not that bad," Morgana insisted, but she winced when Gwen tried to lift the manacles away from her hands.

"Morgana," Merlin said softly, "What did you say to Uther?"

Morgana swallowed. "I told him that he was a tyrant and a murderer."

"You did _what_?" Gwen cried, "No, Morgana, not my account!"

"Yes, on your account," Morgana said fiercely, "your father deserved a trial, a fair trial, instead of that kangaroo court that Uther has set up for any magical 'crime'. Only a madman hears the truth as treason."

"Oh, Morgana," Gwen said, before putting her arms around her friend. Merlin, who up until this point had been standing awkwardly in the doorway, stepped forward and kneeled down at Morgana's side.

"When can you get out of here?" She asked quietly.

"Uther said I'd stay here until I learned my lesson," Morgana said, before scoffing. "I'll be out soon enough, but not because I've changed my mind."

"Just tell him you have," Gwen entreated Morgana, "please, just say you have. Nothing is worth you being trapped down here, especially not me."

"Gwen," Morgana said weakly, going to touch her face but being hampered by the thick metal cuffs. "I promise you, there is no worthier cause. I have lived with Uther since I was ten years old: he's been like a second father to me at times, but I know what he is, and I've seen him kill enough innocent people. I can't stay silent anymore, Gwen, I won't. And if this is the price for that then I'm willing to pay it. The only reason I'm down here and not on the chopping block is because of who I am. And it's not right. It's not fair. Somebody has to say something."

Merlin's remembers Arthur's face when she had told him the same thing. _If it's anybody's place, it's yours._ "I think Arthur feels the same way," she says quietly, "He doesn't agree with Uther's bloodlust."

A small smile twitched on Morgana's face. "For all he tries to say, about being trained to kill since birth, I remember Arthur as a gentle child. I was always the meaner of the two of us." Her smile dims, "But he idolizes his father. You know it as well as I does."

"Morgana, please just tell Uther what he wants to hear. You being down here is going to make you sick-"

Gwen was interrupted by two violent thumps from the end of the hall. "Garth," Merlin breathes, and then: "someone's coming."

"Go! Go!" Morgana hissed, and Merlin half pushed Gwen out the door, locking it with shaking hands. She looked down the hall, and saw shadows at the door. That was the only exit. "Behind the wall!" Morgana whispered, "There's a jut at the end, go behind there, _quickly!"_

No sooner had Merlin and Gwen made it behind the stones did the corridor door creak open. Merlin barely dared to breathe, and Gwen's sweaty palm clutched at her own. "...awful sorry about that, must have got the keys mixed up." Garth's voice carried over "Won't happen again, sire."

"Good." An all too familiar voice replied. Gwen turned her head a fraction of a degree towards Merlin and mouthed _Arthur?_ Merlin closed her eyes in confirmation.

"Open it," Arthur ordered, and Merlin supposed that Arthur must have his own key from the spare set, as the original that Garth should have had was still in her hand.

"You?" Morgana said, and Merlin was amazed by how her voice didn't even quiver. She sounded cool, collected. She would be incredible at poker. "How proud you must be, son of the _mighty_ Uther. How you must look up to him." Silence. Arthur didn't take the bait. Even a few months ago, he would have, but Arthur wasn't a boy now. "Does the king's little helper bring a message or do you just want to gloat?" Morgana tried again, and damn it, _there, just there,_ was the shiver in her voice. If Arthur noticed, his good breeding prevented him from saying anything.

"Guards," Arthur said in a flat tone. Gwen's grip on Merlin's hand tightened, and Merlin's lung suddenly seemed very small.

The clinking of the chains. Shuffling. Morgana's voice, really shaking now. "Get away from me, you cowards!"

"You're free to go." Merlin's head fell back in relief. Gwen let go of her hand, and let out a gust of air. Merlin tensed up, but Arthur heard nothing, the sound probably masked by the click of the lock in the chains. Fast footsteps. That would be Morgana. Merlin risked peeking forward to see Morgana stood in the doorway, and caught her eye. Morgana made a small shooing motion with her hand - _not safe yet. Stay back._

"Morgana," Arthur addressed the lady, and Merlin pushed her body back against the wall. "I swore to him you'd never challenge his authority again. I swore that you'd learned your lesson. Tread carefully. Next time... I may not be able to help you."

"Thank you," Morgana said, "You're a better man than your father, always were."

Her footsteps faded down the corridor; Arthur and his men clanked out after a minute or two. Only when five minutes had passed did Merlin dare unstick herself from the wall, Gwen following her closely behind as they went down the now deserted corridor.

" _Garth."_ Merlin whispered, and after a moment the door opened. Garth was white as a sheet. "It's okay," she told him, taking his hands in her hers. They were shaking. "He didn't know we were there. We owe you. Anything, Garth. Let me know."

The guard nodded, obviously still rattled. "Go now," he said in a low voice, "quickly."

Merlin and Gwen happily did as they were told.

.

Morgana was standing in the main hall that led to the dungeons, still in her ripped, dirty gown. "Oh thank god," she said when she saw Gwen and Merlin emerge from the depths of the castle, "I had to hide when Arthur came out and circle back. I was so afraid I'd miss you."

"We're okay," Gwen assured Morgana, "You're the one we need to worry about right now. Let’s go back to your chambers: I'll make you up a warm bath." It amazes Merlin how selfless Gwen is. Her father died the night before, but she seems to have put her grief aside for the time being to focus on making sure Morgana's alright. It's a gift Merlin desperately wishes she had.

Morgana nodded, allowing Merlin and Gwen to stand either side of her so they were ready to support her if needed. "Thank you for coming," she said as they began climbing the griffin staircase, "I was so afraid that... that no one would come."

They ascend to Morgana's rooms in a comfortable silence after that, none of them needing words.

.

They had barely started pouring water into Morgana's bath tub when they turned around to see the girl already asleep, sprawled on top of her bed sheets. In the end, Merlin and Gwen decide to take off her shoes, tights and top layers, leaving her barefoot and slumbering in her petticoats. They use some old sheets to put on top of Morgana, and tuck her in. She looks a lot younger in sleep.

"Should we stay?" Gwen asks in a whisper, and Merlin starts, wondering when she became the one who knew what to do. Because she has no damn clue. But still, she shakes her head. Morgana'll sleep for a while yet, and she deserves the rest.

"Do you want to go to my chambers and try and get some rest?"

Gwen shrugs noncommittally. "I'd prefer... I'd prefer to go home." She swallows, and stares into the distance. "With everything that's happened... I need to go home. His stuff will... I need to get it all together. I can't... will you come? With me? Help me, I mean?"

Merlin's heart melts a little at the stammered question. "Of course, Gwen."

It's dusk when they set off - they've agreed that they're to sleep at Gwen's and sort Tom's things the next morning. Merlin ends up chattering to Gwen about inane things, after the harshness of the past few days weighs heavily on them both: cook's nephew having an affair with one of the stable boys, Sara the maid and one of the knights were having a baby but his wife was upset she wasn't the one who was pregnant even if the baby would technically be hers as well, Lancelot's long letters to Gwen. It almost distracts the two of them from reality.

They are harshly brought back to earth when the moment Gwen unlocks her front door, ushering Merlin inside, does a figure step out of the shadows. Merlin screams on instinct, but her windpipe is crushed by an invisible force, the same one that lifts her and Gwen off their feet and slams them into the wall. Merlin kicks, panic setting in: Gwen, she has to protect Gwen. She reaches for her magic but she can't think clearly, her air is cut off, she can't _breathe_ , and she’s going to _die-_

Her throat is released, and she greedily gulps down a lungful of air. The sorcerer - for it must be a sorcerer - steps into the light. He's a thin, drawn man, with a receding hairline and eyes that look far older than they should. This, she surmises, must be Tauren. "This doesn't have to be difficult," he says in a worn voice, "all I want is the stone."

"Stone?" Gwen croaks in confusion before she lets out a whimper as the sorcerer's hand twitches. Merlin grinds her teeth, and tries to coax her magic to release her or Gwen, but all she managed to move were her feet, which were still five inches above the ground.

"The stone," he repeats, "Where is it? I've looked all over this place, and it's gone. I don't know what you've done with it, girl, but-"

"I took it," Merlin says weakly, "Please, I took it. It's not here."

The sorcerer's head snapped round. "Merlin," Gwen said in a thin voice, "Don't..."

"Where is it?" he grits out.

"The castle." Merlin rushes out. Tauren's face twists, but she adds, "I'll get it for you. I swear, I'll get it for you. Please, _please,_ just let us go."

For a long moment, Tauren stares at Merlin, and she doesn't dare blink, not even for a moment. He steps back, and Merlin lets out a breath - she's passed whatever examination he'd made of her. "In two days hence, I'll be in the Darkling Woods at dawn. If you don't give me the stone, I'll come back-" and he nods sharply to Gwen's squirming form, "and I'll kill her and you both. Understood?"

Merlin nods frantically. His piece apparently said, Tauren swept out the door. Merlin's magic pushed at her invisible bindings when she was sure he was gone, and with him at a distance now, this time she succeeded and dropped to the floor. "I'll get you out," she babbled to Gwen, focusing on releasing the magical bonds, "I'll-"

Before she had even attempted anything, Gwen fell to the floor in a wheezing heap. Merlin almost wept in relief. Her magic was coursing under her skin like an untamed animal - how dare Tauren come here and threaten Gwen, go through her things, ransack her home? How dare he use his power as a weapon against a girl who had been through enough already? She shook with both fear and rage. How could she be so weak herself that when she needed her magic most, she hadn't been able to reach it?

"You can't stay here," Merlin said determinedly, "We're going back to the castle. Right now."

Gwen was so shaken she didn't even ask about the stone, or Tauren, or how Merlin had thought she'd be able to undo a sorcerer's spell. She just huddled under a cloak that had once been her father's, and allowed Merlin to guide her back to the palace.

In the end, Merlin returns to her original plan, and tucks Gwen into her own bed. She can't sleep. The helplessness of the situation, the way her magic had barely been able to do anything against Tauren, had shaken her to the core. Maybe it was the fear, or the exhaustion, or the fact that she had been caught without warning. But Merlin's magic had failed her, and she didn't know why.

Only when Gwen begins to breathe deeply does Merlin allow herself to climb into bed beside the maid. She is so tired.

Merlin dreams of Gwen, crying tears of blood, because Merlin couldn't save her father, or Morgana, or Arthur, or even herself.

.

The next morning's excitement, Merlin isn't even really conscious for. She wakes up to Gwen's shocked scream, and bolts up in bed, immediately ready to pounce on whatever potential intruder or attacker had so startled her friend.

Instead, she sees Arthur, bare chested and running out of the room after a moment of looking at Gwen, Merlin and then back to Gwen. Merlin looks at Gwen, confused. "What just happened?"

Gwen opens her mouth, and closes it. "I... he thought I was you. I think. He. Um." She went as red as a beet. "Never mind."

Merlin's friend is looking at her as if she's going to be angry. All Merlin can do is laugh, clambering out of bed and going into Arthur's chambers, the door he had exited through still hanging ajar, the prince clearly deciding that closing it was not a priority.

"Arthur?" She calls, still trying to stifle her chuckles. There is an unmoving shape under the covers of his bed. Teasingly, she catches the edge of the duvet and gently lifts it off - Arthur is lying in a ball, his arms crossed, and eyes closed. "Arthur, come on," she says with a chortle, "It's alright."

His eyes snap open. "Go away," he hisses, his ears a bright pink. "Why didn't you let me know Gwen would be in your room?"

"It was a last minute decision," Merlin told him, shrugging helplessly. "I didn't know you were going to come in."

Instead of replying, he grabbed his blanket and pulled it back down. "Go away, you terrible woman," he said, pouting. Merlin supposed he'd be in a grump for the rest of the day, but at least he had cheered her up after the night before.

Merlin pressed a kiss on his forehead before she went.

.

Arthur's moment of mistaken identity keeps Gwen away from her melancholy for about half an hour, but soon her main emotion slide away from embarrassment and incredulity, into fear. "What are we going to do?" She asked, wringing her hands, "You didn't tell me about any stone. Did you just say that to get him to go away?"

Merlin shook her head, "Morgana found it the other day. She gave it to me for safekeeping. But we do have the stone, Gwen. There's no need to fear."

Gwen burst into tears. "But there is!" she wailed, "My father died for just being seen with Tauren, but for seeking him out? Uther could kill us too!"

"No," Merlin said, with more certainty than she felt, "Neither me or Morgana will let that happen." Gwen rocked from side to side, uneasy. "You go ahead to Morgana's chambers," she said, "I put the stone somewhere else, and then I'll bring it to the two of you. Alright?"

The truth was, as much as Merlin loved and trusted Gwen, showing her a stash of magical items would be too much. Gwen had just lost her father, and she was clearly terrified of magic, or at least the consequences of being around practitioners.

"Are you sure?" Gwen asked, twisting her hands together awkwardly.

"I'm sure," Merlin said. She kept the confident smile on her face until Gwen had left the room, before letting it drop away. She strode over to her wardrobe, and soon had the jewel in her hands. It hummed happily at her touch.

"You stop that," she told it crossly.

.

"I hate him," Gwen whispers to Morgana, fiercely, as they wait for Merlin to come in with the stone. Morgana turns to look at her maid, who sits cross legged on the bed from whence Morgana had just arisen. She can't remember the last time she slept so soundly.

"Who? Tauren?" Morgana asked, the very mention of the man who had threatened Gwen and Merlin inspiring a sweeping feeling of rage inside her chest.

"No." Gwen said, "I can't make myself hate him. I fear him, but hate? He didn't kill my father." She met Morgana's eyes, her meaning clear. "I know he's the closest thing you have to a father, but..."

"Uther is not my father," Morgana said, perhaps more vehemently than necessary. Gwen looked down swiftly at her hands. "No, Gwen, I'm sorry. Uther... Uther killed my father too, in a way."

Gwen already knew Morgana's own story, but she still held her arms out toward Morgana for a tight embrace. Morgana melted into her gentle touch. "Gwen, can I ask you something?" She said, looking into her maid's dark brown eyes.

"Of course."

"If... if you had the power of life and death over Uther... would you want him to live?"

Gwen frowned, brow puckered as she looked at Morgana. "I... I suppose I never really thought about it. The king is the king."

"If he wasn't the king," Morgana pressed, "if he was just a man.  A man who had killed your father."

Gwen blinked, once, twice. She pushed back tears. "No," she said finally, "because that would make me a murderer. That would make me as bad as him."

Morgana leans back. "You're a better person than I am," she admitted.

"Never say that," Gwen told her, taking the lady's hand.

"You are," Morgana insisted. "Uther... Uther only took me in because of the guilt he felt for sending my father to his death. I hated him. I wished he died. But a person can't stay angry forever. And Tom... Tom did nothing wrong. But he wasn't a lord like my father, so he is robbed of the justice he deserves. As were you. And all the people... all the people he has hurt. I can't... I can't say I would answer the same."

"It's not forgiveness," Gwen told her, "I will never forgive Uther for what he did. It's practicality. I don't want to be bitter forever. I don't want to be angry and hurt. I want to mourn. But if Uther... if he met with some accident, or caught some disease. I wouldn't weep for him. He doesn't deserve my tears," she said, and reaching up, she wiped away Morgana's watering eyes, "and he definitely doesn't deserve yours. After what he did..." She gestures to Morgana's raw wrists, still red from the manacles. "Honestly, if I didn't have to be the one to pass the sentence, the one to swing the sword, literally or figuratively... I'd prefer to live in a world without Uther."

"I think a lot of people would," Morgana told her maid, her mind made up. Gwen was a better person than she was. But that didn't mean that Morgana was going to let Uther off for what he did.

She looks up at a knock, and the door opens after a moment. Merlin strides in, before wordlessly presenting Morgana with Tauren's jewel. Morgana knows what she has to do.

.

After much argument, Morgana somehow convinces Gwen and Merlin that she is the best person to deliver the stone to Tauren: Merlin isn't quite sure how she did it. She'd said something about not being disposable to Tauren like Merlin and Gwen apparently were: she was willing to take the risk and not willing to let them get hurt. Merlin still isn't entirely sure it's the right decision.

They spent the day in the practice yards, none of them feeling comfortable inside the castle walls: Morgana teased Arthur about his mistake that morning when he arrived; Merlin sketched Gwen's profile while the other girl talked about her father. By the time Gwen's voice was becoming scratchy, the sun had risen high in the sky and Merlin felt as though she had known Tom for years.

Arthur dismissed his knights, and strode over to where Merlin and Gwen were lounging in the shade, both he and Morgana covered in sheen of sweat from baiting one another all morning. The exercise had done both of them good: Morgana seemed more limber, more relaxed after the tenseness of the past few days, whilst Arthur had vented his frustrations on the knights, and now seemed almost cheery.

"Guinevere," Arthur said, bowing awkwardly, looking unsure of what to say, before deciding it was a conversation for another time, and he instead thumped down on the springy grass, and put an arm around Merlin.

"You're all sweaty!" she protested, which made Arthur put his other arm around her and put a sloppy kiss on her cheek whilst she put up a token struggle. Merlin wiped it off, and stuck her tongue out at him. She was apparently forgiven for the morning's mistakes. "You're so gross," she complained to him, and he flicked his golden hair out of his eyes as he laughed.

"You love it."

 _Yes,_ Merlin thought, but changed the subject: "So, your royal pratness, do you want to explain how Morgana thrashed you-"

"She did not thrash me!" Arthur squawked in indignation, "She simply took me by surprise."

" _Surprise_ ," Morgana said in a skeptical tone, exchanging a knowing look with Gwen, who giggled at the other girl's wiggling eyebrows, "Right."

"Rematch!" Arthur demanded, getting to his feet, "Me and you, right now."

"I'm quite alright down here, thanks," Morgana told him, her eyes shining with mirth.

"Oh, are you?" Arthur said, before picking his surrogate sister up from the ground with one arm, putting her over his shoulder. Morgana let out a shriek as Arthur spun her around, and Merlin almost cried with laughter. Maybe tomorrow, things would be on their way back to normal. If normal was a world where Gwen was an orphan.

.

Merlin and Gwen end up sleeping in her chambers that night, this time with Arthur very aware of the situation, and also taking great pains to make sure George also knew the situation, pulling his manservant for a 'little chat'. Merlin wasn't quite sure why this situation required a little chat, but brushed it aside. Arthur probably was just on edge after what happened that morning - which Gwen was still tight lipped about, but knowing Arthur, probably had something to do with grabbing Gwen's rear. It was one of his favourite ways of waking Merlin up.

Hopefully, by the morning, Morgana would be back, having successfully given Tauren the stone and warned him away from Camelot. Merlin had hoped for a dreamless sleep, but it wasn't to be. This time, she didn't have a nightmare: no, this time, everything seemed a bit more solid.

She saw Morgana, walking through the Darkling woods in her velvet green cloak. The stone sang long and low in her pocket. Tauren, his shadowed eyes widening at Morgana's appearance. Swords. Merlin's palms blossomed with sweat. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Shouting. _You are Uther's ward._ Tauren's words were as clear to Merlin as they would have been if she had been standing right next to him.

 _I am no friend to Uther._ Morgana's voice was so virulent, so insistent. She pulls up her sleeves to show off her wrists, the vivid rawness enhanced in the dream world. _I want him dead._ Merlin felt her heart drop. _I want him dead. You need me. You can't bribe your way to the king. You need someone close to him. I can be that person. I want him dead._

The last thing Merlin sees is Tauren taking Morgana's hand, and shaking it. When Morgana pulled her hand away, it was dripping with blood.

Merlin wakes up with a start, weak morning light filtering into her room. Beside her, Gwen's warm body is still lax and asleep. Merlin bites her tongue, the pain bringing her back to reality. Morgana and Tauren? She was meant to warn him away... she was meant to give him the stone and go...

_I want him dead._

It could just be a dream. But Merlin knew it wasn't. Her dreams were never just dreams, not ones like this. She could still see the blood, red and thick, dripping from Morgana's pale fingertips. She dressed in a trance, forgoing shoes in favour of thick stockings so her footsteps didn't make a sound.

Merlin walked slowly to Morgana's chambers, her dream still going round and round in her head. But then she stopped, staring at the door to Morgana's rooms. How could she explain to Morgana that she knew what occurred between her and Tauren? Did she even _want_ to stop her friend?

She changed direction. Down, down to the bowels of the castle. Down, to Kilgarrah. The dragon was nowhere in sight, and in the cavern, where not even the morning chorus was heard, her voice sounded very small. "Kilgarrah!" she cried, as loudly as she dared, aware the castle was still sleeping, "Kilgarrah!"

The clinking of chains preceded the great dragon's arrival. He settled himself on his favourite rock, and cocked his head at her disheveled state. "Isn't it a little early for you, young witch?"

"You have to help me," Merlin said, "I don't know what to do."

"Tell me about your problem, child, and I'll see what I can do for you."

So Merlin does. She tells him about Tom's arrest and death, about Gwen's heartbreak, about Tauren and the gold and Morgana and Arthur and Uther. She tells him about her dream. She shivers when she's finished - it’s a story that she wishes could have never been told. "What can I do?" she begged him, "Morgana wants Uther dead. If I- if I don't stop her, he will die. But..."

"You already know the answer," Kilgarrah told her knowingly, "You've known it ever since you dreamt what you did. Let her."

"Let her?" Merlin cried, "You're supposed to tell me to stop her! Uther- Uther is Arthur's father! The king!"

"He is evil," Kilgarrah told her with conviction, "he deserves to die. Let him. Let Arthur bring Albion together. Fulfill your destiny, Merlin."

"My destiny!" Merlin said, disbelieving, "My destiny can't be about murder!"

"Who are you killing?" Kilgarrah asked her, "Nobody. You are simply not protecting a man who deserves to die. He killed all the dragons, Merlin. He killed the warlocks and the sorcerers and the priestesses. He killed little children in their beds and prevented a generation from being born. He is evil. Free yourself, Merlin. Free magic. Free me, free Morgana, free Guinevere, free Arthur. Free us all, Merlin."

With those parting words, he soared away, oblivious or uncaring of Merlin shouting for him to return.

.

When Merlin sees Morgana, she greets her with a hug. Morgana looked no worse for the wear for her journey the night before, and her entire countenance seemed brighter, more alive.

"Did it go alright?" Merlin asks her, forcing herself not to confront Morgana or to act as if anything is different.

"Yes, perfectly," Morgana tells her with a white smile, before looking over to Gwen who looks as if a huge weight has been taken from her shoulders. "We don't need to be afraid anymore."

Merlin wishes she didn't know what she meant.

.

"Arthur," Merlin says, as she walks with the prince to the midday meal, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," the prince shrugs, "you can sleep in my room tonight."

Merlin smacks him. "Do you... do you ever think what will happen when Uther dies? When you become king?"

Whatever Arthur had been expecting her to say, it hadn't been that. "Um," he says, brow puckering, "I... I've thought about it, of course. It's hard not to, being the king-in-waiting and all. But, my father will live for many years yet. One day, when he does..." Arthur made a hand gesture, but didn't say the word 'die', as if afraid the fates could overhear, "I'll have a lot to think on. I'd change the way some things are done, and keep others. I want to make Camelot a place where the people come first, before any military campaigns or tourneys. I want to make it a better place to live." He turned to her, "Why do you ask?"

Merlin shrugs, trying to look innocent. "I just wondered. We've never really talked about it."

"No, I guess not," Arthur said, "but it's not a problem for right now. My father will live for many years yet, god willing."

"God willing," Merlin echoed.

.

The next few days pass in relative peace, and Merlin has almost fooled herself that her dream was just a dream, nothing more or less, when Arthur asks her if she wants to go out for a picnic. "A picnic?" she repeats, and the prince nods. "Where did that come from?"

"Father and Morgana are going to visit Gorlois' grave," he told her, "so I thought we could take advantage of their absence and have a day to ourselves."

_I can get you close to him._

"Oh," Merlin says, hoping that her horror doesn't show on her face. It clearly does, as Arthur steps towards her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Me?" Merlin says in a too-high voice, "I'm fine."

Of course, this is the moment that her legs buckle. Arthur leaps to catch her before her head hits the floor, but doesn't quite make it. The ground is hard and cold and Merlin groans. "Merlin?!" Arthur says, leaning over her frantically, before lifting his head, "Guards! Send for Gaius!"

"It's alright," Merlin said determinedly, "I'm fine. I just... felt a bit dizzy. Help me up?"

Arthur does, and leads her over to a chair, which she collapses into with shaking hands. "Merlin, you're scaring me," he tells her. Merlin swallows, and tries to pull herself together, but her head aches and her legs won't support her properly.

"I just need a moment," she tells him, which does nothing to alleviate the worried look in his eyes. It takes another few moments for Gaius to arrive, and he immediately unpacks his kit that Merlin has mentally nicknamed 'the physicians bag of doom'.

He ushers Arthur out, before grumbling about Merlin scaring him half to death, before inspecting her eyes, her ears, her mouth and gets her to stretch her limbs back and forth. He stands and looks at her with The Eyebrow most definitely raised. "What?" Merlin says warily.

"Lie down," he says, gesturing to Arthur's bed. He helps her over, despite her insistence that she feels much better already and really doesn't need his support, and has her lie down. She groans when he asks her to spread her legs - she knew he did these kinds of exams, but they were usually on women trying to conceive or with hysteria.

"Do I have to?" Merlin complained.

The Eyebrow tells her that she does have to. She sighs, bends and spreads her legs, and tries to think of literally anything other than the fact that her uncle is peering into her nether regions. When he says she can put her skirt down, Merlin sighs in relief, but Gaius isn't done. He then prods and pokes at her ribs, measures her breaths and how far her lungs are inflating, tests her reflexes and muscle power. "I think this is a bit excessive," Merlin told him as he asked her to touch her toes. To her frustration, she couldn't do it. She supposed she must have gotten out of shape, but she was sure she'd been able to do it three months ago.

When Gaius finally announced the health check was over, Merlin sighed in relief. "Finally," she groaned, "it's not like I'm sick, Gaius, I just felt a bit faint."

Gaius hums noncommittally.

Merlin decides that he's getting revenge for her not visiting him of late, and makes her escape to her rooms for a change of clothes as he allows Arthur back in the room. A few minutes later, an overly chipper Arthur pokes his head into her room. "So. Picnic?"

"Yes." Merlin says decisively, before she even really thinks about it, just desperate to get Gaius' inspection out of her head.

"Great." Arthur beams.

.

Merlin lays awake for half the night, Arthur's body heat keeping her warm. Gwen has gone back to her house tonight, feeling safe now that Tauren is dealt with. Or apparently so, anyway. This time tomorrow, Uther could be dead.

The pros to Uther being dead: no more murders of innocent men and women. Even if Arthur didn't immediately repeal the ban on magic, he'd be impartial, and fair. Perhaps the birthrate would begin to climb again, but there was no knowing that. Arthur would be a good king. Arthur cared about his people. He wouldn't wage war but pursue peace.

The cons to Uther being dead: it would break Arthur's heart. And Merlin cares a hell of a lot about Arthur's heart; she would make it her mission in life to protect it if she could.

Uther might not die. Uther might die. Merlin wouldn't be the one killing him.

Would she?

.

Merlin keeps on wondering if she should be making up an excuse for why not to go on this picnic. But Arthur is so bouncy, and she has no clue why he's so excitable, and she doesn't want to be anywhere near Camelot this afternoon, when all hell inevitably breaks loose.

Morgana waves her off, already dressed in her riding clothes. "Be careful," she tells the other girl, and Morgana smiles at her like she has no idea what she's talking about.

"I'm just going to a grave, Merlin," Morgana told her, "not a battle."

_A pale hand, dripping blood._

"Of course," Merlin smiles, before turning around and walking towards Arthur who smiles at her brightly.

"My lady," Arthur says with a flowery bow. Merlin laughs at him, and he helps her mount Albert. George stands behind them, weighed down by several large bags, and Merlin tries very hard not to laugh at how he staggers towards his own horse.

She fails.

.

"I have something to tell you," Arthur said, after they had decided on a spot, and Merlin had gone to help George unburden himself of the blanket and the food before Arthur had swooped in, apparently dedicated to making sure she didn't do anything.

Merlin paused, as she had been able to take a large mouthful of some of cook's treacle tart, her absolute favourite treat. "What is it?" She said, looking regretfully at her dessert, before putting it down.

"Gaius talked to me yesterday-" he began, and Merlin's mouth flew open in alarm. Maybe Gaius' noncommital grunt hadn't actually been his way of punishing her.

"Am I _dying_?" 

"No," Arthur rushed out, "Definitely not. You're not dying."

"Wait," Merlin said, squinting at Arthur suspiciously, "why did you get told about my medical condition when I didn't?"

Arthur goes a bit red. "I think he decided that it was best for me to come to terms with the news first so I could break it to you, rather than any attempt to keep you out of the loop-"

"I _am_ dying," Merlin whispered, struck, "oh my god, you're going to tell me I'm dying and he just didn't want to be the one to tell me."

"You are not dying!" Arthur said, running a hand through his hair, "I just thought- and Gaius too- we thought that you'd want to find out from me, instead of with the rest of court."

"Don't scare me like that!" Merlin said, "What was I supposed to think? You're being weird."

Arthur laughed, before standing up. He paced a couple of times, before crossing his arms, uncrossing his arms, and sitting back down again. "You can't freak out, okay?"

"Arthur, I am freaking out right this moment. Just tell me, damn it!"

" _You're pregnant_!"

Merlin blinked. George immediately strolled out of the clearing, whistling. Arthur swallowed nervously.

"I'm... _what_?"

"Pregnant." Arthur repeated. Merlin mouthed the word to herself.

"You utter clotpole," she said after a moment, "you made me think I was _dying!"_

"I'm very sorry," Arthur said, "I'm just a bit, well. I hadn't expected this so soon, but- Merlin, I can't tell you how happy I am."

And he was, Merlin realised, looking into his shining eyes. That had been what was different about Arthur this morning and yesterday afternoon: he had been _happy._ Bouncy, genial, affectionate. Merlin placed a hand tenderly on her stomach; she was pregnant. She'd know, wouldn't she?

She tried to think of her last period, she counted back: three. She should have bled three times but instead, she hadn't. Why hadn't she realised? How could she have missed this?

"Please say something," Arthur said nervously, "I get worried when you're quiet."

Silently, Merlin reached out for his palm, and put it on her belly - maybe it was a little rounder than it had been before, but barely. She had assumed that any weight gain was thanks to her richer diet and days without labour - but a baby? She had never really thought about a baby, even though that was the whole reason she was Arthur's mistress.

A baby. Her baby. Her and Arthur's baby.

She smiled, and to her embarrassment tears rose in her eyes. Arthur pulled her into a tight embrace, before placing a firm kiss on her forehead. "I'm going to look after you," he promised, "the both of you."

"Does... does your father know?"

Arthur shook his head, "Only Gaius, you and I know. And, uh, I suppose George knows as well."

"Gaius," Merlin muttered, "the bloody coward. I'm going to kill him."

"Please don't," Arthur said, "we will be needing him in a few months to deliver our child."

Then Merlin realised that yes, she would have to give birth. She remembered watching women from Ealdor give birth, changing water with her mother and giving them sticks to bite down on. Except, this birth, this would be Arthur's heir. The heir to Camelot. The moment that the news became public knowledge, every eye would be on her. There would be no escaping from social functions, or binging on sweetmeats, or wearing her plain dresses. Saying that, she'd need new dresses to accommodate her growing belly. And if Morgana succeeded today-

Merlin felt like her mouth was full of ash. If Uther died today, then her child would be the next in line to the throne.

"Oh no," Merlin breathed, her grip tightening on Arthur's hand, as she felt the blood drain from her face, "oh no."

.

"I'm sorry," Merlin told Arthur as they rode back to Camelot, "it's just a lot to take in, I'd feel better if we were back home. Thank you for telling me privately, I just really need to- to see Gaius. Talk to him about womanly things."

"That's alright," Arthur said, slightly baffled but still smiling like a lunatic, "I'll be right here with you, every step of the way."

Merlin smiled at him, hating how she had to force it. This changed everything.

.

Camelot was in the distance when the bells began to ring.

Merlin's throat contracted painfully, and Arthur ordered George to continue on with Merlin at a sedate pace before he urged his horse into a gallop. Merlin went to follow him, but George leaned over and grabbed Alfred's reigns before she could. She turned to him with a look of betrayal. She looked helplessly on as Arthur became a speeding dot in the distance.

" _George_." She said in her most authoritative voice. "Let me go after him."

"I can't do that," the man said with a respectful nod, "you heard the prince's orders."

"And now," Merlin said, "I'm ordering you."

George looked at her blankly. "My lady, that has never worked before. It won't work now."

Merlin sighed. "George, please, something could really be wrong-"

"Or it could just be something menial. I won't let your baby be harmed, Merlin. I promised the prince. So we go slowly, so as not to compromise your child."

Merlin fumed, but she knew on some level he was right. "Can we at least go up to a trot?"

"No."

"A half trot?"

"No."

"What about-"

"No."

.

Merlin is really coming to resent George as he insists on fetching a step before she can dismount, as if she wasn't perfectly capable of dismounting on her own as she had a mere hour before at the picnic site. She could see she was in for a trying few months.

She manages to grab Sara, who's nigh on sprinting across the courtyard, and asks her what's going on. Sara shrugs, looking harried. "The king and Lady Morgana returned. They were attacked. Everyone's in the physician's chamber, but I don't know exactly-"

Merlin was already running towards Gaius' quarters, shouting thanks over her shoulder. After a moment, she realises that George is hot on her heels. There's a throng around Gaius' chambers - servants are coming and going in droves, holding herbs and pastes and bandages and bowls of water. Merlin squeezes in between the two lines of exiting and entering hands to come face to face with Uther, pacing furiously, as red as a tomato.

"More water!" he bellows, and Merlin looks at him; he's got a bandage around his left thigh and a long scratch down his forearm, but other than that, he looks unharmed. Behind him... behind him is Morgana. The only way that Merlin knows it is Morgana is the green velvet cloak the figure wears, and that Gwen and Arthur are crouched by her side, murmuring comforts. Above her head, Gaius is spreading pastes and potions, and using wet cloths and towels, all of which are covered in blood by the time he passes them off to his veritable army of helpers.

"Morgana?" Merlin cries, and Arthur turns to her, white faced.

"You shouldn't be here," he mutters, looks over her shoulder to George. For a moment Merlin thinks she's going to have to fight with Arthur's manservant, but a weak voice answers her cry.

"Merlin?" Morgana's one free hand stretches out by her side - it's covered in blood. Merlin's stomach turns, but she manages to get to Morgana's side and clasp her palm.

"I'm here," Merlin tells her friend. Closer, she can see through the man made barrier to Morgana's face - her left hand is clutched over her left eye, and blood is running down both sides of her face, "I'm here. Morgana, what happened?"

"Tauren," Arthur spits, before his foster sister has a chance to reply. "The coward tried to attack father and Morgana. Father managed to fight him and his men off, but Morgana..."

Morgana tries to smile. "I'm not dead, Arthur," she says, lips quivering, "I even killed the bastard."

"You did," Arthur says in a wobbly voice, "you did. You were so brave."

She tries to laugh but there's just a gurgling sound, and she hacks instead. "I told you- I told you I was a better fighter than most men." Gwen began to weep, her brown hands curled into fists.

A sudden spurt of more blood let to Uther bellowing once more for everyone to move quicker, work faster, because Morgana couldn't die, Morgana couldn't die. "She's not going to die, sire," Gaius told Uther gravely, cutting off the king.

Uther didn't even look angry at Gaius' interruption. "She's not?" He said, breathlessly.

"No," Gaius said firmly, "but Morgana, I need you to take your hand off your eye. It's the only way I can effectively treat you."

Morgana swallowed, and her breathing went ragged. "I can't take it off," she said weakly, "my eye-"

"I need to see it to treat it," Gaius said, "please, Morgana. You can’t hold your hand there for the rest of your life.”

Morgana's nostrils flared, and she gritted her teeth. Merlin crossed sides of the table, ready to take her hand. "Ready?" Merlin asked her friend. Gwen's sobs rose to a crescendo. Arthur's face was as pale as the moon.

"Read- _AAAAAGH!"_ Morgana launched her hand away from her face, letting out a scream of pain and Merlin grabbed for the digit, holding onto it firmly despite how Morgana's battled to cover her eye up again. Gaius quickly tipped some water over Morgana's face to try and wash away the blood and truly see the wound, Morgana still screeching like a dying animal. Merlin felt tears pouring down her cheeks, but she didn't even see how she had anything to cry about.

It was Morgana who had the right to bellow and screech and scream and yell and shout, because the eye that she had been so determinedly hiding was white and torn. It rolled around in its socket without purpose, completely blind and unseeing. Morgana's body shook on the board as Gaius tried to be gentle with her, blood spurting from her friend’s mouth as she bit into her own tongue.

The little Merlin knows of medicine, from her months peeking over Gaius' shoulder; don't tell her exactly what she is seeing - there aren't any words that come to mind. But she does know that no matter how well the cut heals, Morgana will never see out of that eye again.


	13. Le Morte d'Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of The Prince's Mistress! I will be making this into a series, with each season getting it's own story. If you have any ideas for what I could do with my already altered Merlin universe, please let me know, as whilst many points will work, some won't. I hope you enjoy!

Gaius predicts it will take Morgana ten months to be able to walk around unassisted again, to adjust to half of her vision being ripped away. And, in the early days, it seems he was a little too optimistic in his estimate: Morgana had been walking into people and objects constantly, adressing the thin air next to a person, suffering from headaches every time she tried too hard to see as well with one as she used to with two. Uther swung between proud and heartbroken at how hard she was trying, and how little progress she was making to show for it.

Then, Merlin decides it about time she properly dedicates herself to the study of healing magic.

All too often, her lack of knowledge has lead to unnecessary deaths: if only she'd known more when Will had been shot, she might have saved him. Instead she had stood to the side, useless - the simple skin-knitting spell she'd used for Mordred not enough to fix the catastrophic internal damage that her best friend had suffered. But this was Morgana, and Merlin had more than enough time to figure out how best to help her friend.

In the end, it takes Morgana five months - half of what Gaius predicted. Merlin starts by directing healing graces towards Morgana, but that takes too long for her taste, and it doesn't help Morgana with her disorientation or balance problems. Then, Merlin starts slipping a concoction for wellbeing and restoration into Morgana's afternoon tea daily. This is where the ward visibly starts to improve: her hair becomes shinier, her cheeks fuller, she stands straighter. She stops looking like a woman whose life has been sapped from her, and begins to believe again that she could survive. Self-belief is a magic all by itself, sometimes. Finally, Merlin gives Morgana a runestone necklace."What's this?" Morgana asks, smiling at the trinket. The runes for _self-sufficency_ , _survival_ and _thrive_ are etched into the stone itself, interlocking to look like a Celtic knot.

"A gift," Merlin tells her, sitting at the end of her bed, "in Ealdor, you give them to someone for good luck."

It's utter rubbish, but thankfully Morgana buys it. "Thank you," she said, her one remaining eye - well, she still has two, but the left is simply white now, pale and blank - reflecting Merlin's own smile. "Put it on me?"

When Merlin clasps the necklace shut, she feels her eyes flare gold at the completion of the ritual: _protect her_ , she urges her magic, before sweeping Morgana's hair back over her neck. It's not disimilar to the long necklaces Morgana wore before her accident - she had taken now to wearing little adornment, even her dresses becoming plainer and thicker, as if she was hiding from the comparison between she and her former self. Merlin half feared she wouldn't wear it after that first day - but she was pleasantly surprised to see Morgana wearing it day after day, without fail.

Perhaps Morgana could feel the power of the protection it gave her, even if she passed it off as a lucky charm. Perhaps she just liked the necklace.

So, five months almost to the day after Tauren's attack, Merlin walks into court to see Morgana filling her old place in one of the two thrones at Uther's side - her head is held high, and wearing one of her old dresses, it takes a moment to see that anything about Morgana has changed. For all that Morgana had been full of fear in the beginning - the same fear that they all had been ruled by, despite their best efforts - now, she seems as if she wears her disability as a fashionable accessory, not unlike rouge or kohl. It certainly doesn't detract from her beauty - there is something firmer about her face now, as if she now knows that she can overcome anything if she could overcome that. All morning, Uther shoots glances at her as if he can't believe it, and he fears that he'll wake up to find that her recovery was a dream.

"I knew she could do it," Merlin hears Gwen whisper to Lancelot. Merlin smiles to herself, for once glad to have the attention off of her and her swelling middle - none of Merlin's spells or prayers or poultices could have worked if Morgana herself hadn't been a fighter. So many others would have lain down and given up. But that was not Morgana's way.

* * *

Of course, within a week, Morgana's spectacular return to court has become just another matter of course, and Merlin finds herself as the newest piece of court gossip all over again. It's not like anything actually interesting has happened ever since she and Arthur informed Uther, and Uther then informed the realm, about the pregnancy. So what, Merlin's gained a dress size or two - it's not exactly unexpected. But the court (and for that matter, the people of Camelot whenever she ventures out of the castle) act as if they've never seen anything more fascinating than her pregnant body.

She makes the mistake of complaining to Arthur about the attention once, and he laughs at her put-out expression. "Nobody here's seen a pregnancy in... well, in a long time. It's hardly surprising that they're interested, especially considering our baby will be second in line for the throne."

"Don't remind me," Merlin griped, "Your father keeps on reminiscing at me. Not to me, or with me, oh no, _at me_."

"Well, you did want him to acknowledge your existence."

"In fairness," Merlin hums, thoughtful, "I think he wasn't so much as acknowledging my existence as acknowledging the baby's. It's just coincidental that I am currently carrying his grandchild."

Arthur snorts in amusement at the putout expression on her face. "Just remember," he says, resting his hand on her bulging stomach, "it will all be worth it when you're holding our child in your arms."

"I know," Merlin smiled crookedly, "but in the meantime, I'm uncomfortable, as big as a whale, and everyone keeps on looking at me. I preferred it before, when people could ignore me."  
"I could never ignore you," Arthur protests, rubbing circles over her belly. The baby kicks after a moment of the movement, and Arthur crows in delight as he grabs at a little arm or foot within Merlin - it's strange and alien to see him holding a limb through her skin, a little scary and a little wonderful as well. "There's my boy!"

Merlin rolls her eyes. "There's an even chance we're having a girl, Arthur."

"Nope," Arthur says, releasing the foetus' limb, before blowing a raspberry on the skin, which makes Merlin squirm at the sensation. "I know it. He's a boy. Aren't you?" He addresses Merlin's stomach, "Yes, yes you are."

"You're a sap," Merlin says, and Arthur looks up to roll his eyes at her.

"I'm allowed to be," he replies, "I'm having a baby with the woman I love."

_With the woman I love._

"Oh, shut up." Merlin tells him, but she knows he doesn't buy it, as her cheeks are burning hot with pleasure and embarrassment both.

* * *

After five months of peace, five months of no assassination attempts, no love-spells, no counterfeit knights and no magical plagues, Merlin has become very, very nervous.

She knew Gaius felt the same: for all that peace was a nice change, it simply gave her the feeling that something bigger and badder than before was coming.

"We've become paranoid," Gaius says to her one day as she's crushing up herbs for him, relieved to be of some use now that her pregnancy has lead to almost everyone in the palace treating her like glass, "word has almost certainly got out that Camelot is protected."

He doesn't sound like he believes his own words.

Merlin feels herself relax, even as she tries to keep her guard up: this is probably what Arthur's enemies are waiting for, for everyone to lower their shields. But as each month passes, she becomes tireder, heavier, less mobile and more and more reluctant to stay constantly cautious - it's exhausting to be vigilant, more so than normal with her pregnancy: she wants to sleep more, and she really wants to take advantage of this respite.

She writes to her mother more, and teaches herself how to braid small pieces of twine and plants into bracelets and rings. She spends more time with Morgana, reads through Geoffrey's library at a moderate speed, helps Gwen sell off her father's blacksmithing equipment. Merlin stops waiting for Arthur's hunting parties to return well into the night, stops jumping at every unfamiliar foreign dignitary and every woman who has a passing resemblance to Cara.

Five months peace is, in the end, all she is given.

* * *

"There you ar- Arthur, what happened?" She'd seen the hunting party return, and had waited for him to come to her and tell her doubtlessly exaggerated stories about how he took down various game all by himself. But an hour had passed before she'd heard the door open, and then, it was obvious something was wrong. His eyes were blank, face waxy, and he was still dressed in his chainmail - his tabbard was torn, ripped apart as if by claws.

Merlin struggled to rise - she had been sitting in a deep, red chair that she'd 'borrowed' from the library (as long as Geoffrey didn't ask for it back, it wasn't technically stealing. Simply borrowing, without asking) and her large stomach was becoming more and more of a problem. Usually, Arthur would be overprotective, but today he just collapsed onto the bed, head in his hands. "Arthur," she says again, and this time he looks up as she goes to him, getting down onto her haunches with difficulty so she can look directly up into his face. "What happened to you?"

"We..." he said in a raw voice, "we came across a beast. Unlike anything I've ever seen before." Merlin knows better than to interrupt as he lapses into a silence - he needs time to process, time to think. Finally, he resumes his sentence. "It... it couldn't be natural. It had the body of a leopard, the head of a snake..."

Merlin's mind races as she tries to think of anything matching that description. It niggles at her, familiar, before it comes to her in a rush. "Questing Beast," she breathes, before her mouth goes dry, spine tingling with horror. Body of a leopard, head of a cobra, hindquarters of a lion, hindquarters of a rabbit, bark of a hound. "You saw a Questing Beast? In Camelot?"

Arthur nods, weary. "That's what Gaius said it was called as well."

"This is bad," Merlin moans, mostly to herself, "it's a bad omen. A very bad omen."

"Omen for what?" Arthur asked, brow furrowed with worry.

"Violence. Chaos. Death. Upheaval." She recites what she can remember from the grimoire, before she sees the look of horror on the prince's face. "Arthur, listen to me: there's only ever one Questing Beast in the world at once. That means even if you kill it, another will spawn elsewhere. For it to come to Camelot..."

Merlin automatically puts her hands on her stomach, not sure if she's trying to comfort herself or the babe, who appearing to sense his mother's mood, kicks up a storm inside of her. "How did you get away? Were there any casualties?"

Arthur nods once, sharply. "Sir Bevidere," he says rawly, "his death allowed our escape. I... I left him there." The guilt in his voice is heartbreaking, and Merlin pulls him into an embrace as his body shudders with silent sobs.

"Shh," she comforts him, running her hand through his mop of blond hair. "You couldn't have done anything, Arthur. Even a single bite from the Questing Beast is fatal. The only thing going back would have done is increase the body count. You were all lucky to make it out alive."

Arthur flinches. Merlin slowly draws back, and he looks at her with bloodshot eyes. "Arthur," she says, "why are you looking at me like that?"

"The people are afraid," he says in a cracking voice, "the king commands the beast be dealt with. That... that I deal with it."

"No." Merlin said, before Arthur had even finished speaking. "Absolutely not. I won't allow it. It's a suicide mission."

"Merlin, the king-"

"Fuck the king," Merlin growls, getting to her feet a little too fast causing her knees to crack, using Arthur for support as she rights herself. "This is madness. The beast has come as an omen, Arthur, not just some mindless animal. It will only leave when it's omen is fulfilled. And even if you do somehow manage to kill it, it will simply respawn elsewhere, and come right back until it's purpose is served. There's no point to hunting it down, risking all your lives for Uther's ego!"

She only realises her voice had rose to a shriek once she stopped speaking, and she could hear the reverberations of her words be absorbed by the stone walls of Arthur's chamber.

"This isn't good for you or the baby," Arthur says after a moment, and stands before herding her back towards her chair.

"It's not good for you to go and hunt a lethal, magical creature for no reason!" Merlin snaps back.

"Do I have to get Gaius to give you a sleeping draught again?" Arthur threatens, raising an eyebrow in what Merlin has to admit is a rather close echo of the physician's Look.

"Arthur, don't go," Merlin begs, not allowing herself to be forced back into her seat, "I am begging you. It's pointless, and dangerous, and-" her voice breaks, "what will I do if anything happens to you? What will we do?" She takes Arthur hand from her shoulder, and guides it down to her belly. "Don't go," she whispers, and to her horror feels tears rise up in her eyes, "don't go."

This time, it's Arthur's turn to pull her into a tight hug as she sniffles into his torn tabbard, the roaring golden dragon ripped in half. If even one of the talons had pierced Arthur's skin...

"My father has commanded me, Merlin," Arthur says after a moment, "and I can't disobey a direct order."

"Can't," Merlin says pushing away from him, "or won't?"

"Both." Arthur says levelly, before sighing. "Have faith in me, Merlin. Please."

"A lot of good faith will do me when you're dead." Merlin snaps, voice wavering.

"We'll be well prepared, Merlin, and we'll be careful. Nothing will go wrong. I'll be right back with you. Both of you."

Merlin lets out a sob, before clapping a hand over her mouth.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," she says, "but I can't believe that. Not this time. Not now. I need you too much Arthur. Please, go to Uther, tell him what I told you-"

"Gaius already told him," Arthur says quietly, "he believes it is an old wive's tale. He... became angry. Apparently the Questing Beast has been in Camelot before... twenty one years ago, on the night before my birth. Before-"

"Before your mother died." Merlin finishes.

"He won't be moved," Arthur says, "the mention of my mother... you know how it still affects him. He won't change his mind, Merlin, no matter what I say." The prince sighed, clearly remembering his father's words with exasperation. "He says that things are different now, that he's defeated the Old Religion."

"The people of Camelot would disagree," Merlin says bitterly, before running a hand through her hair. "I am begging you, Arthur. Please. Don't go on this fool's errand."

Arthur looked away from her pleading face. "It's my duty, Merlin," he said, the words looking like they were physically paining him, "I must do this."

Bitterness washes over Merlin like a tide. "Leave then," she says, voice still shaking, "go on your father's whim. At least now I know that you hold your father's opinion higher than your own safety, or your love for me or your child."

"Merlin-"

"Please, just go to your father. Tell him you won't go. Tell him. Tell him, for me, for your son." She looks at him, trying to keep her face blank, but the tears keep spilling over.

"Merlin, I swear, I will be back-"

"Fine." She said, making for the door. "If you won't go, I will."

"Merlin-"

Merlin slams the door shut as she sweeps out of the room, supporting the heavy weight of her stomach as she goes.

It's satisfying for all of three seconds before it swings back open, and Arthur begins pursuing her down the hallway. "You know he won't listen to you," Arthur says, jogging to keep pace with her fast strides, "and damn it, slow down, I know it's uncomfortable to walk so fast with the baby. At least be sensible, Merlin-"

"You be sensible," Merlin snips, "this is a fool's errand. And I'll tell him as much if you're too much of a coward-"

"I am not a coward-"

"When it comes to your father-"

"My father is the king of Camelot, Merlin, are you insane-"

"What in the name of god is going on here?" A new voice interrupts, and both Merlin and Arthur turn to see the addressee smartly. Uther stands before them, clearly having exited the council chamber, his dark brows pulled over his eyes into a frown, Gaius trailing behind him, his arms carrying half-a-hundred scrolls.  
Arthur is the first of the two of them to recover. "Father, nothing, I was just taking Merlin-"

"He's not going," Merlin talks over the prince, whose expression shutters.

Uther looks at her blankly. "Oh, is he not?" The challenge was clear in his words.

"No." Merlin snapped. "He's not going on a pointless quest, against a lethal, unkillable magical beast because you refuse to accept that magic is still a force in this kingdom, whether you like it or not."

A gasp. After a moment, Merlin realises that they've attracted quite an audience.

"Father," Arthur cuts in again, "she doesn't know what she's saying, the pregnancy has tired her-"

Uther raises his hand, and Arthur falls silent. "What did you just say?" He said in a low, dangerous voice.

Merlin feels the smallest twinge of fear, but crushes it. (Tabitha. Llewyen. Ruth. Isobel. Just. Hearth. Kettle. Harmony. Anna. Ygritte. Jon. Grenn. Pyp. Sam. Heather. Val. Pi. Eloise. Beth. Gull. Doug. James.) She sets her jaw, and meets the king's steely eyes.

"Magic is still a force in this kingdom," she sounded out the vowels to complete silence. Nobody dared breathe too loudly as she refused to break eye contact. "The proof of it is all around you, sire. Camelot is childless, because of your actions - that alone is proof that magic is still strong in Camelot. I haven't even been here a year, and I've seen things I never dreamed of: songstresses, dead men walking, magical plagues, and now a Questing Beast. Those can't all have been old wive's tales. Children have watched their parents die, because of your choices, your hatred. And now, you want to send your son out to fight the unkillable embodiment of the Old Religion, the bite of which is a guaranteed death, because you worry the common people will be afraid? The truth is, they have been afraid for years. Not of any Questing Beast, but of you and your regime of fear. You will not be sending Arthur to his death for the sake of your ego. I won't allow it."

Merlin is not expecting the slap, but she really should have been.

Arthur cries out in wordless horror as his father's gauntleted palm smashes his mistress' face to the side, and blood begins to run down the side of her face. "I am your king!" Uther roars, purple with rage, " _How dare you!_ " He raises his hand again, only to find it caught behind him. He turns, eyes bulging out of his head with his anger.

Gaius stands, his scrolls littered at his feet, fist wrapped around the king's forearm like a vice. "You will not strike her," the court physician says in a cold voice, "she is young, and she is pregnant, and she is afraid for your son. And she is my family."

That final sentence is really what made Uther pause.

Uther and Gaius seem to look at one another for an age, before Gaius carefully releases the king's arm. He turns back to Merlin, who has batted off Arthur's attempts to examine her face. Instead blood coats her split lip, and a bruise is already forming along her cheek. "Anything else?" Uther spits, looking at her as if she is worth less than dirt.

"Yes, actually," Merlin says, the hot blood on her face somehow spurring her on. Arthur lets out an almost silent whimper as she keeps on talking. "You tried to have me killed, sire, just because your son disobeyed you. Nobody else knows that," she looked around at the shell shocked faces of the court, "but they do now. If you kill me now, I will haunt you until the end of your days."

Uther's mailed hand makes a fist at his side. Merlin looks at him through heavily lidded eyes. _Come on_ , she hisses in her mind, _I dare you._

"Get her out of my sight, before I do something I'll regret." Uther grits out to Arthur, who is all too happy to drag Merlin away from the scene. Courtiers part before her without any prompting, most just staring at her, agog. Merlin walks away, half wondering if she'd dreamed it. She'd stood up to Uther. Finally, finally, somebody had stood up to Uther.

Arthur is crying by the time he gets her to her chambers. "You're so stupid," he says, "so fucking stupid. How did you think that was going to end, how? My father won't forget this, he'll make your life a living hell-"

"If you're gone," Merlin told Arthur as he tried to clean off her face with shaking hands, "what's the point of living?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Arthur said fiercely, taking her face in his hands, "I promise. I'm not leaving you, okay? I'll go, kill the Questing Beast, be back in time for supper. Nothing will happen to me. And, I'll sort this whole mess out with my father - god, Merlin, if you weren't pregnant, I don't know what he'd do-"

"He's a monster, Arthur."

The prince stills.

"You can't talk about my father that way. You can't."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Arthur's blue eyes meet her own. "You're wrong," he says, finally. "My father is a good man."

"Maybe." Merlin says, "But he's got an awful lot of blood on his hands for a good man."

"Just..." Arthur trails off, closing his eyes, "Just stay here. Don't leave this room, or run your mouth anymore. I will come back around nightfall tomorrow, and then we'll clear all this up. The baby has you all out of sorts, father will understand that."

Merlin breathes deeply. In through her nose, out through her mouth.

"After all this, you're still going? You still don't even doubt?"

"I do doubt," Arthur says shortly, "but a good soldier puts his own doubts aside."

"You aren't meant to be a follower, Arthur," Merlin tells the prince, "You were born to lead. For all your training, I know you better than you know yourself. You know this is not the right course of action."

"We'll talk about this after I return." Arthur looked back at her, and Merlin wondered if he liked what he saw anymore. Then he sighed, turned, and walked out the door. Merlin wasn't surprised that she heard the lock turn.

"If." she whispered to herself. "If you return."

* * *

Merlin spends much of the next day alone. She knows that there are guards on her door, and she knows that something is wrong. Morgana is the first visitor she actually allows into her rooms: all the others, even George carrying piles of food her pregnant body yearns for, were turned away. But Morgana comes in, and looks at Merlin's puffy face, her red eyes, her bulging stomach. "Oh, sweetheart," she whispers, before taking Merlin in her arms like she's a child.

"They're not back yet, are they?" Merlin rasps. She'd dreamed she was in the forest the night before: she was looking out of the eyes of the Questing Beast, and she was on the hunt. She'd seen lights, heard heartbeats, men's shouts. She'd tasted blood.

"No." Morgana says softly.

"He never should have gone," Merlin said, "I told him-"

"You know Arthur, Merlin. There's no way he'd disobey his father."

"He's loyal to a man who doesn't deserve his respect." Merlin muttered, bitter.

"Uther didn't come to morning court today," Morgana says after a few moments have passed, "I heard the servants gossiping. He didn't sleep a wink last night."

"Good," Merlin says, acidic, "He shouldn't."

"There's still a chance that Arthur's alright," Morgana said cautiously, "It could have easily been one of the others-"

"What?" Merlin rolls over, and looks at the ward, whose face quickly goes still at the questioning, as if realising she said something she shouldn't have. "What could have been one of the others?"

"Nothing." Morgana blurts, eyes wide, "Forget I said anything."

Merlin sits up, and looks at Morgana, really looks at her. She has dark circles under her eyes, belying a lack of rest. 

"You dreamed of the hunting party." (Blood. Blood in her mouth, sliding down her gullet-) Morgana looks away, and doesn't answer her. "Morgana," she says forcefully, "what did you see?"

Morgana blinks. "I... I didn't see much. It was dark. But I heard screaming. Somebody was bitten. I didn't see who."

That fit with Merlin's own dream. It fit far too well.

"He promised he'd be back by last night," Merlin said hoarsely.

"Something must have happened. It must..." Tears filled her eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence. It must have been him.

"Merlin, Arthur is fine," Morgana told her, taking her hand and squeezing it so tightly that Merlin thought the blood supply would be cut off. "You know him, no matter how tight a spot he's in, he always comes through. He's Arthur."

(He's Arthur. He's everything.)

* * *

Despite how her nerves had been prickling at her, how Merlin couldn't keep down any food as it tasted like copper, how everything inside her was screaming this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong, Merlin still tried to be optimistic.

Morgana could be right. She didn't see it was Arthur. Neither of them had seen.

Plus, it couldn't be Arthur. Kilgarrah had said that Arthur was destined to be king, to reunite Albion - Arthur couldn't be king if he died. His destiny - Merlin's own destiny - were not yet complete. It could not be Arthur.

The hunting party returned two days late.

It was Arthur.

* * *

"You bastard," Merlin wept to Arthur's unconcious form as servants rush around, plumping up pillows, opening windows, cleaning his wounds. "You fucking promised me. You swore, you bastard, you bastard, you fucking bastard." His face is as blank and unmoving as before, "Please," she begs, putting her hand in his, "please, don't break your promise. Don't die. Don't you dare die."

"Merlin-" It's Gaius' voice, and Merlin reluctantly looks away from the prince. The physician is not alone. At his back stands Uther, face grey, as he looks down at his son's motionless body.

"Get him out," she snaps at the sight of the king. Uther doesn't meet her eyes, but steps into the room. "Are you deaf?" She hisses, furiously wiping at her tear stained cheeks. This time, the king does look at her. Or rather, he seems to look through her. "Get out, I don't want you here."

Uther sways, before swallowing.

"I am his father, and your king. I have a right to be here-"

"You are the man who put him here!" Merlin screeches. She opens her mouth too wide in her scream and the cut on her cheek reopens, and congealed blood starts to flow down her face. "I fucking told you, and you ignored me, you ignored Gaius, and now your son is going to die!"

"You can't talk to me like-"

" _I WILL TALK TO YOU HOW I DAMN WELL PLEASE!_ " Merlin roars, feeling nothing but a driving, overwhelming fury.

Everybody stops, and Merlin gets a strong sense of deja-vu from two days before. She turns and glares at them. "What you looking at?" she spits, feeling even more venemous than the Questing Beast, and they quickly return to their tasks, clearly desperate to finish up and get out of the room.

She turns back to Uther, blood boiling. "You-" she cuts herself off, trying to compose herself, drag herself out of hysteria. "You- you did this," she finally manages in a wobbling voice, "you killed your own son. His blood is on your hands."

Uther lurches back as if she had physically struck him, as he had done to her mere days before.

She carries on, too angry, too heartbroken to care about what happens to her anymore. "The bite is fatal, it is always fatal, and there is no cure. So what, the Questing Beast is dead - no, wait, it's not, it's just respawned! Arthur, however, is not able to regenerate. Because of your pride, your selfishness, your cruelty, my child will be born without ever knowing his father, and that is your- your fault-"

All Merlin's strength deserts her in a rush, and she falls to the ground, skirts pooling around her, crying noisily as she buries her head in Arthur's hand, praying for a twitch, warmth, anything.

"Please," she begs him again, "please, please, please, come back. I'm yelling at your father Arthur, you need to come back and tell me off. Come back and lock me in my room again, just come back. Come back. Please, please, come back."

There is a dry, rasping sound behind her. She turns, ready to scream again, and instead she sees Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot, crying. His face twists as she looks at him, and he steps forward, before putting a hand on her shoulder. _Don't touch me_ , she wants to tell him, but her throat has closed up. Arthur hand is still, lax, and Merlin finds that she has no energy to rage anymore. "I'm sorry," the king says, taking Arthur's other hand, "my son, I'm sorry."

Merlin wishes it was easier to hate him in moments like this.

* * *

It's night when Gaius finally coaxes Merlin from Arthur's bedside. Her knees threaten to buckle as she rises. Uther fell asleep a few minutes before, but still: it was not safe to talk with him in the room. "Did you get the book?" She asks, weary. "There must be something in there. Perhaps the spell to cure the incurable, like we used on Tom, or-"

"There's nothing, Merlin," Gaius said with finality. "The Questing Beast hails from the heart of the Old Religion, from the heart of life and death itself. A bite means death. There is no escaping that."

"What... what about..." Merlin's mind races, combing over everything she's read, everything she's heard. " _Gestathole_." Her eyes burn but the thread of Arthur's life that she holds in her mind's eye - golden, thin, delicate, limp - is unchanging. " _Thurhhaele_." Nothing. She turns to Gaius, sure her despair is showing on her face. "What can I- do you know of any-"

"It's beyond me," Gaius says, old eyes full of grief. "But Merlin, if Arthur was here, he'd want you to take care of yourself-"

Merlin takes a step back from her uncle. "Can you hear yourself? Take care of myself whilst Arthur lies there, dying?!" Her voice rises, and Gaius furiously gestures for her to calm herself. "There has to be a way," she says in a low voice, "there has to be. And... I know who to ask."

* * *

"KILGARRAH!" Merlin's shout reverberates around the cavern, echoing back at her over and over. " _KILGARRAH_!" She screams again, and feels as if her vocal chords are about to tear, when she hears the flapping of great wings. She looks up, tears in her eyes, to see the Great Dragon coming toward her.

"Young witch-" Kilgarrah begins, but that's as far as he gets.

"Arthur's dying," Merlin wails, "You have to help me save him. We need... our baby... the destiny... it can't all be over, Kilgarrah, it can't. Please, you're my only hope, Gaius knows of nothing that can help-"

"Calm yourself, calm yourself," The great dragon tells her, looking at her in what she'd almost mistake for concern, "What has happened to Arthur that mean he's dying? Magic has a cure for all."

"Not this." She says, her voice breaking, "He... he was bitten. By the Questing Beast."  
Kilgarrah stares for a moment.

"The Questing Beast was in Camelot? The last time that occurred..."

"Kilgarrah, please." Merlin begged, "I need... I have to save him. I can't live without him. I can't go on."

"If Arthur still breathes," Kilgarrah says slowly, "there is still time to heal him."

"There- there is?" Merlin barely dared to hope as she lifted her face up, "How?"

"Young witch... it will not be easy, you must understand this."

"I'll do anything." she whispers, but Kilgarrah still seems to hear her.

"Anything?" he questions.

"Anything."

Kilgarrah shifts, causing several rocks to fall to the bottom of the cavern, in the yawning blackness. Merlin stares into the void. Anything. "The Questing Beast is born of the powers of the Old Religion." The dragons says, "To save Arthur, you must use that same ancient magic to save him."

"But... the Old Religion died out, centuries ago." Merlin's stomach dropped. Perhaps Kilgarrah did not know. She doubted dragons stayed abreast of the changing ways of humans over the centuries, considering they lived for millennia.

Kilgarrah let out a laugh. "No, child. The Old Religion is the magic of the earth itself. It is the essence of all things. It will last long beyond the time of man and dragons both. It can never die out whilst the earth still exists."

"Then... how? How can I use it? How can that help me save Arthur?"

"You must find those who still serve it," Kilgarrah says, "They, and they alone, hold dominion over life and death."

"How do I find them, and so fast?"

"Go to the place that men call the Isle of the Blessed, where the power of the ancients can still be felt. There is always a priest or priestess guarding the doors to the realm of the dead."

Merlin's face fell. "I'll never get out of the castle. So many people are watching me. How do I- I can't-"

"If you cannot go to the ancients..." Kilgarrah said slowly, "...perhaps the ancients can come to you. All you need is the right name, the right summoning ritual."

"Do you know a name? Do you know who I could summon?"  
Kilgarrah's craggy face twists. "I know of one that is definitely still alive. But... I don't think you would want her here, young witch."

"Can she save Arthur?" Merlin asks.

"Yes, but-"

"Then I want her here." Merlin said, determined. "Tell me the name."

"Merlin, really, you don't-"

"Please, Kilgarrah, tell me."

The great dragon looked at her for a long moment, and then sighed, smoke spiraling out of his nostrils. "Her name is Nimueh."

* * *

Not for the first time, the locks on the doors to Merlin's chambers are a godsend. If Arthur were next door, and not in the king's own bed, he'd be asking why she was making such a bloody racket.

First, she had to push her bed, her table and chairs all to one side of the room, leaving her with a large open space. Then, she drew large chalk circles on the flagstones, before drawing runes around the edges. She lit candles and placed them in a hexagon formation, opened the curtains wide so the moon could spill onto the summoning circle, and used some scissors from her sewing box to slice her thumb open. Three drops of blood in the centre, with one of the three summons.

" _Icábannan sesácerd_ ," Merlin recited, allowing the first drop of blood to fall, " _icábannan seburgrún_ ," and then the third, and finally " _icábannan Nimueh_."

The final drop of blood hit the floor, and Merlin stepped sharply back, to the edge of the summoning circle. At first, there was nothing, but after a moment, the chalk began to crawl across the tiles, inwards, towards the blood drops. The candles blew out, and Merlin saw a shape grow out of the darkness, and become a figure.

"I haven't been summoned in a very long time," the voice says, and Merlin knows that voice. She's heard it before.

" _Floumfeogifum_." A ball of blue light immediately bursts out of the darkness, and Merlin finds herself looking into the face of Cara, Cara who tried to kill Arthur, Cara who sent the plague, Cara who raised Tristan de Bois-

No, not Cara. Nimueh.

"You," Merlin whispers, before swallowing heavily. This is what Kilgarrah meant when he said she wouldn't want Nimueh here. He'd said to her: the young Pendragon must live, no matter what the cost. Still, Nimueh had tried to kill her and Arthur both in the past. How could Merlin ask for her help? Could this be another trick? Perhaps Kilgarrah didn't know what had become of her. But, if Nimueh could save Arthur...

"Me," Nimueh said with a slanted smirk. She was incredibly beautiful. Merlin wondered if she had frozen her own body clock, or if she had chosen this particular face. A sorceress could do anything if they had the power and the patience. "Why have you summoned me, Emrys? The last time we met, you looked rather... wroth. Why the change of heart?"

"I need your help," Merlin heard herself saying.

Nimueh stilled, and turned to her.

"My help?" She repeated, as if she was hearing a particularly funny joke. "And why would I help you?"

"You're a priestess of the Old Religion, aren't you?" Merlin presses, "You know how to save a life. A life no one else could save."

Nimueh's expression shutters off. "The last time I did somebody a favour with the life magics, it led to the Purge of my people from this land."

Merlin stared at Nimueh for a moment, and blinked. "You're the one who helped Uther and Ygraine..."

Pain flashed across the priestess' face. "If I'd known what Uther would do, I never would have intervened. But they were desperate, and they were my friends. I told them, I told them the risks, I told them it was a life for a life. But they didn't care. All they wanted was a child, and then when it came for the price to be paid, Uther blamed me for her death. As if I can control who lives and who dies. If I could, I would have chosen him to die instead - Ygraine was my friend. I bent the rules for them, and look how I've been repaid. My people, hunted like animals. Me, forced to hide like a criminal, forced to change my face over and over. Living in fear these past twenty one years."

"I'll give you anything you want," Merlin said, "I know how much this cost you. But you brought Arthur into this world. And I need you to save him."

"Arthur Pendragon," Nimueh tasted the name on her lips, "its strange, how everything keeps on coming back to that one boy." She looked up at Merlin, and saw her, really saw her, for the first time. "You're pregnant. And in love. Of course." She laughs, and Merlin tries not to quail under her merciless glare. "Emrys, you could be so much more. You could be everything. Instead, you harness yourself to the position of little more than a servant, starving for crumbs of affection whilst your people perish."

"I'll do anything you want," Merlin says again, "I swear, if you want me to kill Uther, fine. If you want me to kill myself, fine. I swear. Anything."

Nimueh stepped forward, and took Merlin's chin in her hand, turning her head left and right as if she was a horse she might buy. Her hand was warmer than Merlin had been expecting, and magic coursed just below the surface.

"Who did this to you?" She motioned to Merlin's large, mottled bruise and torn skin.

Merlin looked down. "Uther."

Nimueh's nostrils flare at the king's name. "He always was a brute, but striking women was always too far, even for him." She releases Merlin's face, but doesn't step back. They're close. So close, their breaths are intermingling.

"I can't choose who dies in exchange for Arthur's life," Nimueh says plainly, "but as you are the one making the deal with the old magics, it will be someone in your life. Usually, I'd say it would be you, as it was for Ygraine, but you do not count as one person right now." Merlin looks at her, uncomprehending for a moment. How could she condemn another person, a person she knew, to die because of her deal? Surely it would be better if she were the one to die. Kilgarrah's voice echoed again in her mind: the young Pendragon must live, no matter what the cost.

"The baby, Emrys." Nimueh explained, as if talking to a lackwit. "If you die, it dies with you, and everything is out of balance again. It could be anyone. Your best friend, a passing accquaintance, your own mother. You do not choose, and neither do I. If you dare come and ask for a renegotiation after I have done the spell, you will see what it is to cross me."

Relief swelled in Merlin, "Thank you." She says hoarsely, eyes filling with fresh tears, wondering if being willing to let another person, an innocent, die in Arthur's place, makes her a monster. "Thank you."

"We haven't got onto what I want, yet."

Merlin swallows. "What... what is it that you want?"

Nimueh reaches out, and places a firm hand on Merlin's stomach.

"When the child comes, I want it."

Merlin jerks back, horrorstruck.

"You- what? My-"

"You said you'd do anything," Nimueh reminds her, "if the stakes are too high, then it looks like Arthur dies."

The young Pendragon must live, no matter what the cost.  
Merlin can't speak. Can't move.

She looks down, at her bulging belly, and can't even truly comprehend what Nimueh is asking for. "Why?" She manages to choke out, "Why my baby?"

Nimueh's expression softens, and Merlin has to fight the urge to step away from her, to say this has all been a terrible mistake.

"The Purge has been a terrible time for our people, Emrys. I am the last of the order of the Old Religion, the others are all dead. If I cannot find a replacement, the knowledge that lives in me will perish with me, and death and life will forever become abstract, unknowable concepts. Your child is destined to be strong, Merlin: she is born of you, the strongest warlock in all history, and of Arthur, a boy born from the Old Religion."

Merlin gapes. "She?" She finally croaks; unable to put anything else she's just heard into words.

"Yes," Nimueh says, looking down, "I can see her. Her soul. It is so very beautiful, Emrys. Would you like to see?"

Not waiting for an answer, the priestess reaches out and puts her palms over Merlin's eyes.

Somehow, Merlin can see through the other woman's palms. Where Nimueh stood is now a twisting torrent of red, and looking down at her own hands, her body is made up of pale blue shining lights. Down, she looks at where her belly is, and a soft, purple light burns like a beacon - now, Merlin understands what Nimueh means. Her daughter - her daughter! - is lilac, and wonderful, and strong. She is stronger perhaps even than Nimueh, she burns so brightly. Slowly, Nimueh takes her hands away, and Merlin is left looking at simply her dress, stretched over her belly.

Arthur had been so sure they were having a boy.

 _Arthur_. This was all about Arthur.

Arthur was so excited for this child. How could she give her away?

"I have a different idea," Merlin says slowly. "Don't take my daughter. Not for good. It couldn't be explained. But... you could come here. Wear a different face. Be her nursemaid, her confidant, her teacher. Teach her about her magic, how to control it, the ancients too. You get the same result, and..."

"And you don't lose your daughter." Nimueh finishes. "I don't do this to hurt you Emrys. I... I just need to know that after I'm gone, everything will remain balanced. I can't spend too much time away from the Isle of the Blessed - when there were others, we'd rotate, and I'd spent only a month or so there a year. But now, it is only me, and every time I am away it is a risk, which grows the longer I am absent. How about..." She frowns, thinking. "How about you come to me. If I give you an anchor... yes. That could work. If I give you an anchor, which will take you consistently between two places, then you can bring her to me. You say _éadgiefu éaland_ to come to the Isle of the Blessed, and say _carseld_ to return here. Yes. That would work. You could come at night, when the castle sleeps."

Merlin breathes out. "Thank you," she says, a great weight being lifted off her back. "Yes. Thank you."

Nimueh looks around the room, and her sharp eyes alight on one of the rings that Morgana had given to Merlin in the earlier days of their friendship. "This. It can be this." She picks it up, weighs it.  "Does it fit you?"

Merlin nods.

"You'll wear it always, after this. If your secret is ever discovered... it would be good to be able to get away quickly. _Getýan_ _wícian_." The ring, a pale jade stone set in silver, glowed white for a moment in Nimueh's hand, before she gave it to Merlin. It was as cold as ice to the touch.

Merlin swallows, her nerves returning at the reminder of how much the risk to her magic being discovered increased. Disappearing at night with Arthur's heir? Her daughter's possible accidental bursts of magic, like Merlin had experienced? But right now, she had to focus on Arthur. This would save him.

She slipped the ring on her finger.

"I'm ready." She told Nimueh, "What do I have to do?"

* * *

The Cup of Life was filled to the brim, and some of the precious water ran down Arthur's chin, no matter how careful she was whilst tilting it shallowly between Arthur's lips. Merlin massaged his throat, and he finally swallowed, sip after sip, until the cup was empty. Uther was still motionless in sleep, but Merlin dared not take her eyes off of the king whilst she gave Arthur the water. When the cup was empty, covered it in a glamour - the large, golden cup was transformed to look like a normal goblet made of tin.

Then, Merlin bent down, slowly, slowly - she put her head on Arthur's chest, and heard the thump-thump of his heart, slow and steady. "Come on," she whispers to him, "please. Come back to me. I need you."

Merlin hadn't meant to fall asleep.

But she hadn't slept for what felt like days, and the magic she'd used to seal the agreement between herself and Nimueh had sapped what little energy she had left.

She wakes to a warm hand carding through her hair.

In her sleep, her neck has gone cricked. She bends it to the left and the right, and smiles at the soothing sensation of a warm hand stroking her hair methodically, from the roots to the base of her neck. Arthur did know how much she liked it.

Arthur.

Her head shot up, and the hand fell away as she jerked upwards, staring. Arthur was in the same position he'd been in before - but his eyes were open. There was blood in her cheeks, life in his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes. Merlin hadn't thought she'd ever see them again.

"Merlin," Arthur croaks out, his voice strained with disuse.

Nobody else has noticed yet - it is only she, him and Uther in the room, with the guards posted outside. He smiles at her, or at least tries to. He's still so weak.

"Arthur," Merlin breathes, before the familiar tears begin to cascade down her cheeks with little warning. "Oh, _Arthur_! I thought I'd lost you!" She weeps, louder, putting her arms around him and sobbing into his chest. From the other side of the bed, Merlin hears rather than sees Uther stir.

"My- my son- guards!" Uther bellows, so loud his voice cracks.

Merlin can hear the door opening, the footsteps, the orders Uther is barking for Gaius, for clothes, for food, but she can't bring herself to let go of Arthur. She isn't dissimilar to a limpet, unwilling or unable to let go of the only thing keeping her alive as waves wash over her, each one bigger and stronger than the last.

* * *

In the end, Arthur is the one who has to convince Merlin to get off him so that Gaius can examine the bite - it's already healing over, as if it had never been there in the first place. The moment that Arthur has his tunic on, Merlin is back by his side, hardly able to believe that it had actually worked.

"Merlin," Arthur sighs, though there is no annoyance in his voice, only fondness. "I'm not going to die on you." Merlin glares at him with red rimmed eyes.

"Forgive me for my skepticism," Merlin snaps, colder than she feels. Her face falls. "I didn't mean that."

"Come here," Arthur says, and Merlin perches on the side of the bed. "I know this is what you feared would happened. I'm sorry I put you through it, it's the last thing I wanted, especially in your condition. But I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

"I wish I could believe you," Merlin sniffs, but she lets Arthur stroke the side of her face all the same. The cuts have healed up now, leaving only a large, mottled bruise along her cheekbone.

"I think there's someone watching over me," he said to her gently, "keeping me from harm. Keeping me alive for you and our son."

Merlin can't help but giggle at that.

"What?" Arthur asks, "What's so funny?"

"We're having a girl, Arthur," Merlin tells him after taking a moment to compose herself, "I know it, now."

Arthur squints at her, "Nope. We're having a boy, I already told you."

"We'll see who's right when she comes," Merlin allows, smiling happily as her future opens up again. Arthur will live to meet their daughter. The future had never seemed so promising.

* * *

Arthur is not best pleased when he gets it out of one of the servants exactly how little Merlin has spent sleeping during his illness, and even less pleased when he realises the last time she'd eaten was dinner just before the hunting party had returned.

"You're so stupid," he chastised, before turning to his father, "I can't believe that you didn't stop her." Uther looked down at his feet apologetically. He reminded Merlin for a moment of a small boy being scolded by his father, instead of the other way around.

"I didn't know she wasn't eating," Uther defends himself, "but... I should have."

"Yes," Arthur scolds, "you should have."

He next beckons Gaius to his side, and even though Merlin is the object of his ire, she can't help but wonder at how he manages to hold court as well as Uther does in the throne room from his sickbed.

He whispers something in the physicians ear, his eyes never leaving Merlin, and Gaius nods sagely. "Right away, sire," the old man says, shooting Merlin a warning glance. She knows from experience that it means _do_ _not_ _move_.

"I'm fine, Arthur," she tries to reassure the prince, "I just lost track of time. Nothing will go wr- _ah_!"

She doubles over, deep pain radiating out from her stomach.

"Merlin!" Arthur cries going to get out of bed before Uther pushes him back down. Gaius is at her side in moments, and helps her into a chair.

"Has this happened before?" He presses, "What can you feel?"

Merlin grits her teeth. "Hurts. Here." She rested her hand at the top of her stomach. Gaius put an ear to her belly and presses. She lets out a hiss of pain, but is more prepared for it this time.

Something warm and wet spreads across the chair, and when Merlin looks down, it is coming directly from her.

Her waters had just broken.

"What is it?" Arthur said, panicked, Uther no longer strong enough to hold him now. He tries to stand up and groans with the effort. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Gaius holds up a finger, and turns back to Merlin. "How far along are you?"

Merlin looks at him with wide eyes. "Twenty nine- thirty- thirty one weeks. Thirty one weeks." Barely eight months. Too soon. It's too soon. Gaius' face goes very grave. He turns to the king.

"We need to get her into the birthing bed." When Uther stands that, jaw open, Gaius snaps: "Now!"

Suddenly, everything is moving. Merlin feels as if she's in a dream. It's too soon. It's far too soon.

* * *

Gaius had told Merlin to prepare for a long labour - but they're 6 hours in, and although she's apparently dilating, it feels like she's been there for years. "Don't push yet," Gaius tells her for the thousandth time, "You need to keep on breathing."

"But it hurts," Merlin whines, "Just get her out, get her out-"

"You can do this, Merlin," Gaius tells her firmly, "I know it hurts, but just think. At the end of it, you'll have your baby in your arms."

Her baby. Merlin screws her eyes up tightly, and can almost see the lilac light that had burned from within her. Through the door, she can still hear Arthur's voice fading in and out: Gaius had told him to stay in bed, as he'd be no use in the birthing bed, but everytime a servant or midwife left or entered, she heard him asking for updates, asking to come in.

Merlin has decided she doesn't actually want him inside right now. Or ever. Because she feels like if she sees him, she'll wring his neck for putting this baby inside her, and forcing her to get it out.

"Gaius," she moans, "Gaius, Gaius, it hurts-"

It's not Gaius' hand that mops her brow. She looks around for the old physician, but he's nowhere to be found. "Where-" she pants, looking around for her uncle, "Where's Gaius?"

"Shh," the midwife hushes her, "It will all be alright. You won't be fully dilated for a little while yet, he just went to do some errands. He has a severely ill patient from the town. He'll be back before the end of this."

Merlin's gut churns. If she had eaten anything in the past day, she knows she would have expelled it from her body already.

"How much longer?" she pants, "How much... how..." She screams as another burst of pain rockets through her. "I can't do this for much longer," she tells the midwife, "I can't, I can't, it hurts too much-"

"You can," the midwife tells her, "you must."

"Soon?" Merlin asks, looking up desperately at the midwife, her magic itching at her under her skin. "Please, tell me I can push soon."

The midwife gets up, and crosses to the end of the bed, looking at Merlin's lower half. "...yes," she says, stunned. "You're... you're fully dilated. This is so strange-"

Merlin screams as she pushes with full force. Come on, she chants, come on come on come on come on-

"You're doing so well," a voice tells her, "Almost there, just one last big push-"

"I can't," she cries, "It's too hard, I'm too tired-"

"You can." The woman tells her, "One more push and you can see your baby."

 _One more push and she can see her daughter_.

Merlin doesn't even realise she's pushing again until she feels something crest out of her. "Yes!" The midwife tells her, "Yes, yes, well done! The heads out, just one more push, one more big-"

A squelching sound is all Merlin can hear other than her own heartbeat for a moment, and she lets out a breath of relief when she feels the last of the baby leave her. Moments later, a slap, skin on skin, like her mother used to do to newborns to get then to breathe, and she hears a cry.

She sighs, relief permeating her entire body. "Congratulations, my lady," the midwife tells her, beaming as a small, pink, bloody shape wiggles in her arms. "You have a little girl."

Merlin holds out her arms for the infant, and the midwife hands her over - she is tiny, her little fingernails are so delicate, her mouth is wide open in a wail. She has little tufts of fair hair on her scalp, and there is a cord running from her belly button to the afterbirth, which thankfully came out with the baby. "Do you want to cut the cord?" The midwife asks. Merlin shakes her head, aware that she'd probably stab herself or her daughter if she tried holding anything sharp.

"Oh, my darling, darling girl," she whispers to the child, "I've waited for you for so long."

* * *

Arthur is finally let into the room when Merlin's been cleaned up - the blood and water and urine she'd lost during the labour not something she thinks that she ever wants him to see, or something he'd particularly want to see either. She hadn't let go of her daughter in any of that time - the midwife had been showing her how to nurse, and luckily her baby was a natural at latching.

"A girl?" he says rawly, looking at their baby like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He seems to have completely forgotten about his certainty of a boy. "Oh, Merlin... she's perfect."

Merlin beams so hard her face starts to hurt. Gently, she passes her over to Arthur, and with his bandages middle, he awkwardly cradles her tidy body, hand making sure to support her head.

"She weighs nothing," he breathes, "like a cloud." He looks up at Merlin, and she sees tears in his eyes, "She... I... you..." He struggles to speak at all.

"She has your hair," Merlin tells him, "your nose too."

"Oh, you poor thing," he tutted to the baby, whose perfectly upturned nose snuffled in uninterested response. "At least you have your mother's eyes."

"All baby's eyes are blue, Arthur," Merlin reminds him. "They could turn to either of our shades."

"You're just like her, aren't you," Arthur coos, ignoring Merlin's protestations, "my little princess."

It hadn't really dawned on Merlin that her daughter was a princess of Camelot. But she was. She was a Pendragon, royalty. "What... what shall we call her?" Merlin asks.

"I must admit," Arthur half laughs, not taking his eyes away from their baby's face, "I had only been thinking of boy's names. That was silly of daddy, wasn't it?" He asked the infant, who lazily stuck her tongue out of her rosebud mouth. "Did you have any ideas?"

Merlin's mind ran over names: _Hunith_ , for her mother. _Ygraine_ , for Arthur's. Neither of those fit her baby girl. _Morgana_ , _Guinevere_. None of them fit either, no matter how she wished to honour her dearest friends. For a moment, she entertained magical names, no matter how much she knew it was madness: _Avalon, Matilda, Tabitha_.

Then, she remembered the name of Will's mother. It was perfect in every way.

"Erin," she said, with a dry throat, "her name is Erin."

"Erin," Arthur tests out the name on his tongue, a smile growing on his face, "Princess Erin Pendragon."

"Do you like it?" Merlin asked.

"I love it," Arthur said, looking at her, beaming. "What does it mean?"

"Peace," Merlin told him, "it means peace."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew - it's done! I hope you all enjoyed reading this is as much as I enjoyed writing it. The next installment will be called 'The Princess' Mother' (go figure) so keep an eye out for it :) Reviews are what I feed off of, and any constructive criticism (or any mistakes you've noticed eg spelling, names, plot holes) is very welcome, considering I am unbetaed. 
> 
> Also, I know Merlin will seem very volatile and perhaps a bit OOC in this chapter, but she's pregnant, hormones are fucking with her, and considering she's had all the extra time to read a fuckton of books (including ones about the Questing Beast and hows it's Really Bad News), I'm saying it'd be more OOC if she wasn't lashing out and incredibly on edge, unlike Merlin in canon who just ignores Morgana's dreams, even thoUGH HE KNOWS HER DREAMS COME TRUE. Fucking canon Merlin. Never listening to Morgana. 
> 
> Another big change: Nimueh is alive and well. But off screen, someone has died for Arthur to live. I bet you can guess who. I was considering factoring it into this story, but decided it would be better to end with Erin's birth, and instead save all that angst for the S2 story.


End file.
